Chemicals
by Gilded Blue
Summary: Unable to handle his father's death after the Cell Games, a guilty young Son Gohan begins acting progressively more dangerously, and the dark Saiya-Jin prince watching from afar finds a tool ready to be used for his own selfish devices.
1. Prologue

**Chemicals**

_Preliminary thoughts, considerations, and anxieties: _

Even this shirt! You'd think that after all the time that's passed; I would be able to behave. After everything that's happened, you'd think that I would have grown from this even just a little bit.

Do you know who my dad is? Do you have any idea what he's done?

I loved to wear it to go camping with him. This shirt, do you know what this shirt means to me in light of the fact that at one time I was wearing it when in the company of the one and only Son Goku?

And even this pad! I pick it up and the paper is smooth under my rough, cracked flesh over my fingers. This is evidence of another time.

I loved to draw pictures of him. Really, come to think of it the amount of attention I've paid my father's form is kind of bizarre. I could skip back just a few pages and look at documentation of a part of my life where Son Goku was my father, taking me on fishing trips, telling me that he wasn't strong enough to beat Cell, but he sure would try. Because that's what we do, we try.

My whole life in shambles scattered about the floor. It's hard to walk around in a place like this. That's why I always examine the mess at the doorway for a few moments, to let all of the little details slowly sink in to my skull.

My father was beautiful, and now this place is horrible and ugly in his absence. The door opened so gradually, light spilled into my sanctuary and I hissed, staggering in. What would father think of this mess? I shook my head, at the thought of his disapproval and sadness, while muttering to myself, "What a pig sty."

My head tilted, scanning the area with unblinking eyes: books, clothes, pens, games, toys, papers. "Filthy." I spat with distaste as my eyes crawled over the scene.

How did this happen? He can't possibly have that much power over any single person, can he? I just miss my dad. My heart sinks very suddenly. I miss my dad. I just miss my dad. I want my dad back, and he's gone so that can't happen, and in case you were wondering, _I _am the reason that my dad is dead and won't come back forever.

I continued in, closing the door behind me. Again it was pitch black. I stumbled through, clothes, books, everything I've ever owned all piled across the floor, and when I fell over _whatever,_ I seemed to float, float towards the window, and when the blood on my hand sparkled in the moonlight, I stared at the broken glass.

This unbearable feeling, stuck to me just as my blood clings to the jagged, dirty fragments of glass on the window, has haunted me every minute of every day ever since my father died. It's as if when my dad died, he turned out the light to the sun, and my own monsters came out with their own type of light, not nearly as pleasant, as they spit their vivid fire at me. I'm sort of watching my hand as I flex my fingers, feeling little bits of glass crush in and out of my skin, each time getting a little more coated with blood as I mumble, "Man, this is dangerous."

The cloth on the floor I once wore in battle. Really, it's like a rag now. But as I examine it, wanting to use it on my hand, I remember the words. I flinch at the soft feel of the linen, the same way I flinched when Piccolo told me, _"I cannot train you. You've changed. Your heart has darkened."_

Darkened? What do you mean, '_darkened_'? I'm Son Goku's son!

"And you," I spat, mostly yelling at the rag as I clinched it between my fingers. Little flecks of my blood immediately sink into it. "You _could've_ helped me. You could've _stopped _this." As my friend (well he was supposed to be my friend) and my father's comrade it was practically his _duty _to help me, to… save me.

But... but even so... I remember the harshness of his words that day. Hatred spills in my heart, bitterness floods my brain, and chills run down my spine when I think of the sound of Piccolo's voice the night I beat him in combat.

_"You can't discipline yourself anymore. Your mind doesn't work the same way. Stay __**away**__ from fighting." _

I sat at my desk, examining my bloody hand along with their friends, little fragments of glass all staring at me in the starlight dropping down from the hole in my window. When I flexed my hand, blood gushed out like water flooding a river. I smile, as morbid as it sounds.

Rivers! I forgot. I forgot all about them. Did I ever tell you how amazing my dad was?

He loved to fish. He taught me to fish. We went fishing a few times before we fought Cell. Did I tell you that? We ate fish a lot, as a matter of fact, because it was always available and free. Mom says that Dad was wild at heart and when he was growing up he would even eat wolves. As a kid, I ate a little bit of a dinosaur's tail every day while I was under Piccolo's watchful eye. Back when he I was useful to him (worthless am I to him these days, he will have nothing to do with me). Don't worry, about the dinosaur, the one that I ate. I thought it was my friend.

His picture mocks me these days. It used to bring comfort to me, it used to even give me the tiniest bit of hope and excitement for a fresh and shiny and clean future, but these days it's mostly just a joke. His picture mocks me these days, it mocks the state I'm in and my inability to get over this and be the man that my father told me to be before he died. I'm hearing my father's laughter but somehow it seems rather cruel. A little memorial photo sits on my desk, and kind of like my father, at first it was rather innocent but somehow in the end I think it's kind of destroying me. His grin is wide, his hand outstretched, and below it I read the words. Liquid gathers about my eyes and it trembles there.

_"Loving memory..." _I wonder who the boy is saying these words with the shaking voice and hands. This is also a memory of my failure.

I stared ahead, my back straightened. I swallowed and cracked my neck. Dedicated to remain stoic, I grit my teeth and used all of my strength gathered in my abdomen to keep myself from mourning my father. This is also a memory of my father's smiling face right before he died and everything got much worse.

No, I promised myself I wouldn't think like this. I don't want to have these thoughts. I don't want to think about, or feel, or worry about anything. I don't want to talk to anyone about Dad's death. I don't _need _to relive that, I don't want to remember it. It's like it didn't even happen, really. Think of Dad on vacation or something, you know like he's taken a vacation from saving the world or… us.

"_Son Gokou. Son Gokou. Son Gokou. Son Gokou. Son Gokou."_

His name is repeating over and over again like an echo trying to stab me, and I can't make it stop. I'm grabbing my head by chunks of my hair, and I've fallen out of my seat. My dad's picture is on the floor now. I'm shaking, my tears have turned into fire and they are slowly flowing down my cheeks to torture me, my chest rises and falls, indefinable sounds escape my lips, I lamented.

**"****Shut the hell up!" **I bellow, rushing to my feet. Still, I hear my father's name and my mind won't calm down. I recognize my rapid breathing and the sick crack of a picture frame and glass beneath my foot.

My eyes dart over to the side, again I must scan my room, account for everything immediately. The books on my desk, the pictures we took, even the pencils half-sharpened because I worked day and night, day and night, study, study Gohan.

_"Go ahead and study, Gohan."_

Please, please, I do not want to hear his voice. He was so amazing, he was so, so amazing, so please don't make me remember him any more vividly than I already do. He's larger than life, my dad, and I just want him to come home but he can't come home because he's dead, and in case you were curious my father, the strongest warrior in the universe, is dead because of me and he asked to never come back.

The sheets on my bed! The clock on my wall! The books on my shelves, they all came ripping, ripping down. Who's that boy grunting in his room without the light on, throwing things around? What's wrong with him? He's acting like he's going insane.

Remember when Dad defeated Frieza? He was so cool and powerful and strong. And when he battled Cell? I'd never seen anything like it. And when Vegeta came! Remember how Dad really saved the day time after time after time just for me to come around and not be able to do it just like he did?

I couldn't breathe! I was being suffocated, suffocated! Oxygen, I needed it to pass through my lungs and yet I found body consented to this punishment. Maybe my mind created or incited it. Who's to know? I couldn't breathe. I needed to sit down on something but my chair had fallen over. I found the back of my bed, my little mattress with its sheets half torn off looking at me innocently. I ran my hand over the naked fibers as I sank down on the bed, gasping for breath.

Ever feel like sometimes your mind shuts down, and someone really awful comes out once you're gone, then really bad things happen before you wake up again? Yeah, me neither.

I'm shaking, sitting on the wooden frame of my bed. My mattress is now shreds, its remains propped up against my fallen chair. The rough metal of its springs left ribbons of blood down my arms from the contact.

She's looking at me like she's looking at the dead. She's scared to enter. Her chocolate eyes are wide and her mouth is open and twisted like she was caught something horrific while she was in the middle of saying something. I promise next time I'll keep the door locked, Mom. I didn't mean for you to see this. I'm not entirely sure what it is you're seeing, though, from the look in your eyes. This is because you are so clearly unsure of what it is you're seeing. This is because you do not recognize me as your son right now, and let me tell you right now, Mom, you will not recognize me for a very long time.

"Gohan." She says, unnerved and uneasy. It should say something, about my mother, that the first thing she is able to say after the stale silence of me being, literally, caught red handed in the middle of a stint of madness, is my name. She doesn't really know how to talk to me or what to say. She's confused and hurt and before that she was angry. Concern has flooded the sensation of rage from her face, and now it may be more appropriate to say she looks exhausted.

Mom, help me I'm suffocating. Mom, help me, my beauty is fading. Mom, help me, because Dad is dead. Mom, help me, and forgive me, because I think this may all be my fault.

Did you know that I have a little brother and he looks just like my dad? Did you know that my dad's dead? Did I tell you my father was a great man? His name was Son Gokou, and he's saved the world several times over. My dad really could beat up your dad, but he wouldn't because he's benevolent and heroic and he only uses his power for good.

My name does not tumble off her lips easily. It's choked and forced. Her hand is on her chest, like she's shocked or I've hurt her. Truly, my mother seems stricken. She sees I'm bleeding but she cannot enter my fortress. Now this place is my sanctuary, even a mother's love can't pull me out. She's thinking, probably, about how she never thought I would have gotten this bad. She wants to be afraid for both of us but right now she's mostly afraid for herself.

I'm hugging myself in my mess and my mother disappears. I know where she's going, because I know what's about to happen. Somehow it seems inevitable to me that this would at some point happen. I don't think I've ever seen her move so quickly, and I have seen my mother do many awesome things. My mother too has defended my father's name in his absence, and these days she is preoccupied with a miniature version of him. This is how she lauds my father; this is how she honors his memory. She's decided to recreate him.

She's picking up the phone. My Saiya-Jin ears are so keen I can feel her fingernails on the soft buttons of the phone. The clicking noises are maddening. My teeth are chattering like I'm cold, like it's really freezing in this room in the middle of this now-broken night, but in truth it's hot. A sickness is coming across me and I cannot stop it.

Simultaneously does his shadow stare at me, and his eyes are still black, and he is telling me that it is my fault. I have acknowledged this, father, many times tonight and I am sorry. We are so far away, so far away from my beloved mother, that when she comes back and forth to check on me in her maternal frenzy I can say nothing, and all I can do is curl up in my mess and watch the blood stain ripped pieces of paper.

I'm catatonic and I'm practically drooling, because I'm staring at all of the things in my room, and they are so, so stimulating that the only response my mind can handle is nothing at all. I am being bombarded with thought, feeling, and sensation and I'm not sure which one to pick to pay attention to.

What was my science... and what was my math… are now stained with my essence, bright crimson and furious at nothing in particular. My textbooks used to tell me love-stories about a boy that grew up to be a great scholar and made his parents proud, but now they're mostly yelling at me and I'd rather skip the lecture, thanks.

And voices, faint yet present, sound at my doorway. As distracted as I am, I look up like an animal in its moment of greatest anguish and confusion. I'm hearing my mother, voice full of tears, say, "I don't know what to do, Bulma. Last time he nearly killed the doctor." I'm picturing her wringing her hands together, and I'm thinking about how thin and pale my mother's fingers are. I'm wondering why they're so flawless, how she does it considering she's a housewife in the country, always cooking or cleaning or doing work around here.

And the door opens wider, light flooding into the room. It kind of hurts my eyes, they can't stand the stimulation, and yet like a fly do I stare at the light. They murmured to each other for a few moments.

"Gohan! Gohan, can you hear me?" I don't respond and she looks back over to my mother. She's stepping between my things, and then she crouches in front of me. She puts her hands on my knees, trying to get me to look at her. Still I'm not really recognizing or registering why Bulma is standing in front of me. She stood up again, looking back over at my mother, but she is not in the doorway anymore. My mother's arms around me, and she is using all of her strength possible to hold me down. When Bulma sat next to me, pulling me against her chest, she warned me, "This might hurt…"

It's happening in slow motion.

I tossed, and I fought, but when it was not because of the sweet feeling when the needle penetrated my skin. I gasped at the juxtaposition of pleasure and pain rushing through my body, dancing around like butterflies in my tummy or something beautiful like love and warmth. Bulma Briefs let the sunlight in, even though it's pitch black outside and the stars are all covered with black clouds, not even permitting the moon so much as an ethereal glow through.

I am sinking. My energy is dropping quickly and it is both alarming and enraging. Never trust Bulma Briefs, she comes with needles.

My eyes are heavy. The last thing I see before my eyelids come crashing down is Bulma Briefs' eyes wide with terror. Am I really so hideous to you right now, Bulma? What is it about me that has scared you so? I'm just a normal little boy, missing his father. I'm falling back into my mother's arms, and she catches me so very well. I can't actually see my mom, but I can feel her, I can smell her, I can even sense her fear.

My eyes are heavy, like the weights of my sins around my neck. They are heavy like the chains that are perpetually shackled about my wrists, reminding me forever of the way that I could have saved the day but I didn't. My eyes are oppressive, and burdensome, and they are closing even though I am trying my very hardest to stay awake. So heavy.

* * *

-**CL**


	2. Rejected

**Chemicals**

"I don't know what to do, to be honest..." ChiChi stared at the floor, wringing her hands in her lap, "Since Goten was born, this has become more usual."

The computer on her desk hummed an emotionless tune. The fluorescent lights above joined, technology sang in her lab, but it lacked emotion the way that Buruma seemed to. And she turned around to look at the younger woman for a second, "I understand you're reluctant, but I am asking you for the last time to let him come and live with me. You know he could attend better schools out here and he could learn so much being surrounded by the best of the best. If he wants to go into law, our lawyers will _make _time for him, a doctor, he can familiarize himself with all of our medlabs and our breakthrough inventions. Anything he desires is right here."

"But his family!" ChiChi's hands dropped and she looked to Goten resting happily in Buruma's arms, "What of us, Buruma? He's my son."

She sat across from ChiChi, smiling a little, "I know. I know, I really do. But..." An uneasy tone was taken now, and Buruma quietly stated, "But... Gohan might need a break from life in the forests. A break from life with you and Goten."

"Me?" ChiChi shifted back, as if she'd been slapped.

"Not you." Buruma smiled at the child in her arms, "Goten models his father, you know. Gohan does as well, but Goten is a mirror image."

ChiChi frowned, "What are you getting at...?"

"Gohan... is emotionally and mentally unstable right now." She let out a breath, "And Goten is a reminder of his loss. Some people tend to need to cling together to get over things like this..." Buruma leaned back, staring at the wall because she could not bring herself to stare at chocolate brown eyes, "And others need to get away in order to cope. It's been such a long time, and you know as well as I do that after Pikkoro rejected Gohan he's been even worse than he was before. Goten's birth was icing on the cake. I swear ChiChi, it won't be long. I swear that a year-"

"A _year, _Buruma! Honestly!"

"ChiChi, look at him." The woman stood to watch Gohan sitting by the Gravity Chamber, just sitting, through a window. He was staring into the warm summer sky, but there was something about the sight that was off, and both women could easily sense it.

ChiChi took Goten from Buruma's arms, looking down, "Pikkoro. I despised him. And he told me like you did that Gohan was losing a warmth that he once used to melt even Pikkoro's heart. You were Gokou's best friend, Buruma... I am trusting you."

* * *

"Are you going to just sit there and wait for my attention, Boy?" 

"I figured you were busy."

"And you were right." The voice rasped and Gohan looked up, "But a Saiya-Jin always gets what he wants."

"Then let me come in."

Bejiita almost seemed to smile and the doors were opened. "So come in." Gohan's body was jerked down upon entering the red room.

He lay there, hands pressed against the floor, veins more obvious due to the stress, barely able to lift his head when Bejiita seemed like fluid.

"What're you doing?"

"There is always a price to pay for everything you do. Learn that quickly."

Tucked on the floor, grunting to get up, Bejiita's boot hurled Gohan to the other side of the chamber.

And the poetic rantings of a man that was supposed to be a psychopath began, "You think you're talented. I guess you must be.."

On hands and knees, he begged his body to get up, but Bejiita had already knocked him down again, strutting back and forth like a pendulum, "But even so..." He rasped, grabbing the boy by his neck, 'helping' him to his feet, and eyes that held oblivion were left to stare at each other, "You don't impress me."

Gohan spasmodically jerked under Bejiita's egotistical fist. And he dropped the boy to the floor, and Gohan could barely stand to try again, his body was so very heavy.

"I want to pollute you." Bejiita's hand was outstretched and Gohan grabbed it, the man helped him to his feet. His finger traced the boy's collar bone, "I want..." Gohan's eyes could only focus on lips and could only hear violently whispered words, "to corrupt your thoughts so free of sin."

His words were not difficult and forced, and leaning against burning cold metal walls, Bejiita advanced again, slowly, slowly, "_My _ideals" He breathed, "blaring in." His fist over Gohan's head, "Penetrating," he ground his knuckles into the dent, "that thick air of," he leaned over, smirking at the raggedly breathing boy, the caged monster under him, and gently, ferociously, against Gohan's ear he murmured, "Chemicals, and morals, that have been instilled in you since infancy."

Every move was marked with a personal signature of sensuality, and Gohan groaned, the intense malice that burned in Bejiita's eyes now seemed to own him, and in a mixture of surprise and disgust at his own desires, he pushed back against Bejiita, like a scared and tormented animal, he searched for the door, the only thing his mind registered was the necessity to leave that room and the awkward desire to plunge into another man.

"You can turn if you like... but you will not forget me." Bejiita's arms returned to cross over his chest and he was so painfully right, he would return to Bejiita's side, "I defile you and you are now mine."

The preciseness of his words, Gohan panted and Bejiita pushed him down, back against the walls raging against his back, his skilled hands would tug on the boy's jacket, and there was something desperate and pathetic about how much Gohan needed Bejiita's lips hot on his skin.

"Mine to cleanse of those chemicals-defamiliarize yourself with that way of life, Boy." And Gohan clung to every word he spoke, whimpering when Bejiita's lips did not touch his hot skin.

Bejiita stood and threw the boy's shirt back at him,"You may be angry," the man turned his back on Gohan, wide-eyed, in horror of the reality of the situation, "but until the rage blazes and blazes and forms pure cruelty and all the seeds that _clown _planted in your skill are plucked away, cut away..." He chuckled, kicking the boy's jacket towards his lonely corner, "I will not have you."

"And _that _won't do." Bejiita continued, eyeing Gohan as he scrambled to his feet with all the negative energy he could muster to help himself, he pulled his shirt on, momentarily satisfied that it smelled of Bejiita, momentarily disgusted with himself, and momentarily desperate once again for more, more touch, more skin, more than Bejiita pushing him down and suggesting with his hands and suggesting with his words cool as wind.

And all Bejiita did was laugh, a cold, harsh laugh, mocking Gohan's anguish, "I've already claimed you mine."

Bejiita would not have him. Bejiita wanted him. His stomach felt light. The man was talking in circles, and Gohan was following him like an obedient dog, and though frustrated with his own servile manner, he wanted his place at Bejiita's side, he wanted Bejiita to _have _him.

"I cannot own or occupy you until you hand yourself to me." Gohan stared at Bejiita, his eyes were open and he looked as if he were to protest, the boy thought surely he _had _handed himself to Bejiita, so sinister and sadistic in his place, but he would not warm Gohan with his touch again, "Despite the fact you've asked, set yourself _free,_"

Gohan turned, dejected and pulling his jacket roughly over his arms, but when lips on his neck uttered the words, "...And drain out the chemicals." He shuddered and closed his eyes in a sort of euphoria only found in hell.

After all, he'd just begged a being worse than Satan himself to _fuck _him.

* * *

He rushed out of the Gravity Chamber, pulling his jacket tightly over, tucking his chin to his chest, and he shivered. 

His hair, jagged, jagged spikes rolled down his shoulders, and when he rushed into the bathroom to stare at himself, the feminine look annoyed him.

And he grunted.

And he almost bore a hole into Buruma's bathroom.

A furious, frustrated groan.

And he flinched at the knock on the door.

"What is it?" He growled.

"Gohan?" Her voice was soft, magical even, and he stared at the door, sobered, "Are you okay, Honey?"

"Uh, yeah, Buruma." He coughed, leaning against the sink.

"Can I... are you... I need to speak with you." She was uneasy about something. He smelled her anxiety, but she was not afraid.

The door slowly opened.

She smiled at him, her smile was something short of brilliant, "Hey, Gohan."

"Hey." He replied. Quiet. Dark. He stared at the mirror.

Hair. Hair. Hair.

Feminine hair.

"Are you done? I want to show you something."

He looked up. She rested a hand on his shoulder that he did not shrug off.

"You know your way around Capsule Corporations fairly well, don't you, Gohan?"

"I do." He watched his feet as she lead him from one corridor to the next, hallway after hallway, door after door, each painted white, bleached white, there was something disgusting about the perfect order everything seemed to be in.

"Then pick a room. A wing. A floor. Anything you want, provided it's not taken, of course, it's yours. You can have as much space as you want."

He stared at her oddly for a moment. "To... live?"

She stopped, turning his shoulders gently so that he would face her. Seriously, she stated, "Gohan, it has been so hard on you this past year or so. I know... that after your brother was born..." Gohan tilted his head to the side, but Buruma's fingers tilted his jaw back to face her and she would gently continue, "It was hell on you, wasn't it?"

He stared at her, angry that she would expose his weakness, because she was not Bejiita, she was neither tall nor strong, but her soothing words held so much power he resisted tears that he'd forbidden to flow.

"It was hell. Seeing a child that was like an eerie ghost. A reminder of our loss." Her hands were sturdy on his shoulders, small as they were. His knees were shaking.

"_Why _are you doing this to me?"

"You're not alone, Gohan." She whispered with gushing sympathy for the boy before her, "You're not. I swear. I want you to live with me and get away from that, breathe cleaner air away from that place where you're forced to remember."

He straightened again, and promptly turned to run.

"Gohan? Gohan!"

He bolted from the doors, confusing himself as to where he was going.

No!

This was pity, wasn't it?

No, he needed no pity.

And she had the audacity to remind him that he was forced to return home, that he was forced to face that damnable child and his mother and the air that even smelled of the man that he was forced to call his father.

No!

And when he found his body crushed against Buruma's, falling back two seconds upon impact, he stared at her, wide-eyed.

She pressed her weight on her palms and sat on her feet, "Gohan!"

They stared at each other for a few seconds, and he moved closer to her, tracing her lips with his finger for a second, a second before he brushed his lips to hers and fate was sealed, all was inevitable after that one split second.

The point of no return.

And she fell back, but she stared at him with sweet blue eyes, in wonder, curious, because when he closed his eyes and brushed his lips against hers, her eyes fluttered closed in pleasure as well.

"This..." She murmured, shaking her head, "This is... wrong. This... this..." She stuttered, "This didn't happen."

And she stumbled to her feet, and he stayed there, alone, staring as she exited clumsily.

Yes.

He would earn Bejiita's trust and will.

Yes.

He would train every day under _his _prince's command.

Yes.

He would live with Buruma. He would watch her.

He would love her.

* * *

I really, really, really liked writing this first chapter! Now, this is NOT a yaoi, there will be hints here and there but this is Gohan/Buruma/Bejiita. 

Reviewer's Corner:

Kyrene: I used the word "defile" in there just for you!

Vegeta Goddess: Yes, this is a little bit more like me. 'Disaster' should pick up, the first chapter was boring but it needed to be there. It should pick up, or I'll go back and re-write it when I have more of an idea as to what to put to not make background info so horribly boring. Anyway, as for the current style of this fic, I decided longer chapters at the same pace so I don't have to have 50 three-page chapters. 

Uh: I hope this chapter explained Pikkoro a little more. There will be flashbacks and stuff and the big 

Man himself will show up eventually to clear all that up. All you should know as of now is that Pikkoro sensed something wrong with Gohan, something bad-wrong and because training him could not calm this inside of him, he sent Gohan away, into Bejiita's arms.

Rena: Wow is right. It took an awful lot of energy to write the prologue.

MarshmellowDragon: Yes, I wanted it VERY dark and I was pleased with the results. I hope you all are as well.

Star-Brella: Well, as of now I do my best to update once a week at least one story. Lately I've held to that, I'm trying for longer chapters. See Vegeta Goddess' review reply.


	3. Faggot

**Chemicals**

_Slither, slit, slither, slit, slip on a blood stained rug._

_Pretty knife, prevailing over his skin, pretend that the bad days don't pull his presence._

_Cut, cut, cut, scorching blood, chopping his life away..._

Gohan woke up in a cold sweat. He sighed, calming himself, wiping the beads away with the back of his hand. And when he sat up, he let his legs dangle over the side of the bed for a few moments.

_"God..."_

He was only wearing boxers, and after staring breathlessly at the dark image of what was _supposed _to be him in the mirror, he pulled a grey sweat shirt over his chest.

Who was that skinny boy?

_"Bejiita..."_

He looked so pale.

_"Mmh..."_

But was what more disturbing was the way his eyes were an unnatural black.

_"Ah... ah..."_

He rested a hand on his thick and full head of hair.

Feminine.

_"Bejiita..."_

The same man _he _wanted was with _his _Buruma. Bejiita had not desired the boy, or surely he would have complied.

Manly.

He was such a fool.

And his mother, what would she think to learn her son with his long, feminine hair was a gay bastard?

**A faggot.**

_"Oh.."_

And his sweet Buruma could not be pleased by him, no, he was too feminine for a flower as beautiful as she.

His door opened but no light spilled in. He seeped into the hall.

Carefully, carefully Gohan walked lonely, crazed in jealousy and pain.

And a door...

Cracked open...

Another moan.

A baby's gurgle.

He stopped. He pushed it open.

Trunks.

He was unsure if he had said the name out loud or if it was in his head.

The child stared at him, as if demanding someone else.

Moan.

He hated this child. He loved it. He admired, _desired _Bejiita...

He loved Buruma.

The door softly clicked closed.

Sound ceased to exist.

He could do it. Kill him so easily. His hand twitched. He could feel the energy warm on his fingertips.

But this time...

This time...

There was something exciting and arousing about causing pain and hurt.

"Gohan..?"

He turned. Energy faded before her weak eyes could catch what little he'd gathered. "I took a walk. I heard him crying."

"I suppose we woke him up again." She said seriously, gliding to the child that was content with the newcomer.

"Yes. I suppose so."

"Do try and get some sleep, Gohan." She blushed, trying to be kind, but neither would look at each other, "We need to enroll you tomorrow."

"There are two weeks left of summer."

"Yes," She tried to laugh, "But I want to make sure that they don't put you in Home Ec. or anything."

"I see. I'll be in bed soon. I promise."

"Good boy, Gohan." She put the sleeping child back in the crib, "He can be a handful. I thought it was bad the first year. Now he's so stubborn, he wants to walk."

Gohan chuckled a bit, "Yes. Stubborn."

"Goodnight, Gohan." She seemed to rush out of the room. He wanted to grab her, ask if he was really something to fear, but instead he stood outside the Gravity Chamber once more.

* * *

He was still in his dark grey sweatshirt. A pair of jeans. He hated the other clothes he owned. 

Buruma didn't seem to approve either, because as they sat awkward in the car, she murmured, "I've never gotten you anything-Have I?"

He stared at her for a moment, "Pardon?"

"For birthday or Christmas. I've never given you a gift."

"Oh, I wouldn't remember."

"Well, I have to swing by the mall today then. I hate uniform and you very well can't wear a gi. And look-" She touched his bare wrist, "You're growing. I bet most of that is too small."

He moved his hand and stayed silent. There was something soothing about her kindness-and something that made him annoyed. He wanted more in his relationship with her than her pretending to be a second mother to him.

"Gohan..." She said slowly.

He lifted his head up.

"What... happened..." She slowly started, "Yesterday..."

A great desire to escape the car crushed him.

"I'm..." She lost her nerve, "I'm glad you've come to stay with me-us."

* * *

The first _thing _(or perhaps it was supposed to be a girl, he wasn't sure) that he noticed in the large, but not huge, room had ratty black hair, tied in pigtails at what was perhaps a desperate attempt to seem feminine. 

And blue eyes. But they did not mirror the ocean, they were not a cool, icy blue, and they did not even remind him of the frosty sky in the fall.

Her arms were crossed over his chest. She raised a brow when she saw him, interested. But he was uninterested to say the most.

"You seem strong." Gohan chortled a bit, she had _no _idea, "Are you here to try out for a team?"

"No. To enroll."

"Oh." She said in response, frowning at his concise words.

"Hey, Videl! You go after the girly boys now?"

"He's cuter than you are!"

At those words the boy managed to stomp to Gohan. His face was red with anger, and when he glared down at the thin boy that seemed to only stare ahead, never lifting his head to acknowledge him once, he thundered, "So you want to hit on my girlfriend, do you?"

The girl seemed pleased.

"You can have her."

Her face fell.

The boy's chest puffed, Gohan faintly noted that he looked like a chicken ready to fight another one. "What're you trying to say?"

Gohan smirked at his feet, "Are you even sure that's a girl?"

"You're one to talk, Faggot!"

Gohan slowly tilted his head up, inside he was shaking in rage, but there was a nonchalant exterior, but when he stood, elements of grace on his side, and though his long legs did not send him towering over the other male, he did seem to prove a point that he had _something _up his sleeve that made him superior in every way, this manner both Videl and her boyfriend seemed to note.

But before he could fight, "Gohan."

He turned his head to the side.

"Come on. You're all set for your exams."

He brushed past the annoyances, they were flies, they were nothing.

* * *

The man raised a brow, "You're _done, _Mister Son?" 

"Yes. Can I go now?"

"I advise that you sit back down and check over your work..." He began to push the papers back towards Gohan who shook his head.

His eyes, such a deep black that it struck a certain sort of fear in the professor's heart, his voice was so soft, "I'd rather not."

"These tests are rather difficult, Mister Son. You've only been in here half an hour."

"I said I'm done." And with that, he threw his pencil to fly like a dagger towards the professor's face, but as the man dumbly blinked at the speed and accuracy of the pencil's flight when Gohan wasn't even looking in his direction, it hit the chalkboard and dug in, right over the tip of his ear.

* * *

"Well. Good. That didn't take half as long as I expected." Buruma chirped, "I saw you talking to that pretty girl, what's her name?" 

"I don't know."

"Did she seem to like you?"

"Yes."

"And you..."

He leaned back, looking to the side, "I don't find her particularly attractive."

Buruma sighed. "Oh. Well, you're a cute little boy. I'm sure you'll have a ton of girlfriends before the first week of school ends."

* * *

He stared at Bejiita. His movements were so fluid, so graceful, so much like music. His body was a poem, his bare chest with traces of slight dampness from sweat, looking at him was a soft moment of calmness before... 

He ended up slammed against the wall. He gasped in pain. Another moment, another bruise. Gohan looked up, and there was something darker than disdain when he dug his nails in the metal walls to pull himself up.

Bejiita seemed pleased. Very pleased. But it was more or less Gohan's eyes, his expression, the hatred and the anger. Bejiita always managed the better of Gohan. He always managed to do awful things, terrible things, to belittle him, and when Gohan showed defiance he was amused. He stood there, barely acknowledging Gohan.

He lunged towards Bejiita, who stepped to the side. A fist was met with Bejiita's arm. Gohan pulled all his weight towards his opponent so not to fall back, and Bejiita still shoved him off.

He crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes said what he didn't have to.

_You will always lose. I am a God. _

And the torture that had been inflicted on Bejiita was now Gohan's weight to bear. And the humiliation and pain that Bejiita was so friendly with as a boy was now Gohan's.

And they spent hours in their little red room until Gohan promptly collapsed breathing raggedly on Bejiita. He pushed the boy back, and his weight was too much for him to bother try and hold up. He felt the cold, dampened floor and faintly wondered if it was sweat or blood.

Bejiita kneeled by the boy, once again he traced his jaw, his body with a sort of intricate fascination and Gohan could only dumbly stare up, stare and breathe.

Gohan's head barely tilted to look at Bejiita. The man was staring straight at him, smirking. Dripping in arrogance.

He was infatuated with the man. His body was something of a poem, and yet when his hand brushed over the boy's stomach and he closed his eyes and sighed, the hand was pulled back and the boy's look of dejected annoyance was met with lush laughter.

"What're you thinking, Boy?"

"Stop." He breathed.

"Did you really think I would take you?" His voice was almost soft, Gohan tilted his head again, nauseated, "Did you really think that I would just so blindly allow you that pleasure, that honor?"

_"Please..."_

He stood up. There was someone else he had in mind, someone else he was going to share his night with. Someone else that was going to have that pleasure, that honor bestowed upon her.

Gohan ducked away into the darkness.

* * *

He stared in the mirror with red eyes. Feminine. Feminine. Feminine. Feminine. 

What would Son Gokou say?

And that was it. In a fury, a calm sort of frantic fury, he looked to his one hope, all he had in life.

When he looked at the knife, he grabbed a fistful of hair and he yanked it over. And another patch. And another. And another until he was to his ankles in black and still when the job was done and his hair was left in choppy sort of spikes, his chest rose and fell heavily, and it was another one of those nights were he could not breathe, he needed blood, he needed to _kill _something.

* * *

Hehe. I feel I should note I'm dedicating this fic to Vegeta Goddess cause she's just that awesome. 

Reviewer's Corner:

Kyrene: Vegeta is hot. 

Naridine: Yay! Yes. I strive to be different. I loved that line.

Marshmellow Dragon: Yeah. Most people get confused with my stuff.

Vegeta Goddess: I am not awesome, I'm just lucky. Hehe. You can host any of my fics on your site, just tell me what I need to do. I hope you liked this chapter. It got a little bit slow but towards the end my fingers were flying. 


	4. Jagged

**Chemicals**

Time. It passes so slowly, something so angelic and innocent, time truly doesn't seem to mean any harm to anyone. Neither did Son Gokou.

He wanted to help, and he caused a catastrophe in itself. And then he died. No, this mess he couldn't pick up.

In hell, time seems to slow, and every second, every innocent second, seems like a million years when one is screaming in an oblivion of agony, when the soul is ripped apart until pain cannot be felt.

And in heaven, time passes so quickly along the beautiful gardens and golden splashed skies. But he was fighting. Grace, training, eternal bliss in the unimaginable levels of strength he could achieve. He had no idea. No idea. He left with confidence that his beloved planet was now in his son's protection. And in a way, it would be.

It wasn't his fault. He had no idea something so dark and wicked could ever wrap chains around his son's heart so rusted and evil that as time, innocent time, passed on, his son's heart would explode under it's unyielding grasp.

Bejiita had merely exposed the boy. He was a bridge, the fatherly hand, the replacement that introduced him to the idea of corruption. It was something even more innocent than time that caused these chains to pull around Son Gohan's young heart. Something innocent, unknowing.

* * *

Pikkoro stared in horror. The woman was relatively intimidating, the wife of his old comrade, nemesis, friend, but as she crossed her arms over her chest, he gave an exasperated grunt. "Look, we've never been fond of each other, I'm not asking to see him, just tell me how he's doing. Has he stopped training?"

She didn't know any better. She was just another mother, and the monster in front of her had corrupted her baby by showing him the world of martial arts in the first place. She did what any mother would've done. She despised him, blamed him, and then when her son reached a point where he was unreachable by her loving mother's touch, he needed a man in his life, and the closest thing to his father was the monster Pikkoro.

But he turned her son away. Her hands were gripped firmly around the door, "Good, you won't see him. Stay away from this house, Pikkoro. _He _might've liked you, saw something in you, but I know better, you're no good, and you can't have my Goten too!"

The impetuous thing she was! Pikkoro sighed deeply, the insane woman. "ChiChi, you don't understand, Gohan's not the same-"

"No, Pikkoro, you don't seem to understand." He didn't need to look up. The finality in her voice said all it needed to, and when she slammed the door, Pikkoro was only left with one option.

* * *

He drummed his nails on an ink-stained desk. Filthy. Everything was second rate, he was in a house of pigs. Their lies, their rules, their morals. He hated it. He hated _them. _He hated the teacher's voice. He hated the constant questions. He didn't need to try. They were insignificant. Insipid fools.

Challenge.

He stared out the window.

He'd had a dream the night before. The same one, where she was there next to him, no, _under _him, her head tossed, her hair sprawled out, and the only thing he could really make out in the beautiful darkness was the sweat on her brow, there was something more than beautiful about how the darkness highlighted her skin. To purge this lust.

Oh, to leave! To train with Bejiita and the paradoxical euphoria he found in the pain that the man inflicted on him. He wanted to cajole him into sex. To get it out of him by any means necessary. And then, it hit him...

Why was he there?

Buruma. That was why he was there. That was why he didn't kill them all. That was why he didn't say a word. Buruma wanted him to excel and he did with flying colors.

He thought about standing. It would be as easy to walk out , to escape this place that celebrated mundane life, mediocrity, as it was to kill them all. But what was he? He was thirteen, he was at the mercy of either Buruma or Bejiita, both seemed to debase him in their own ways. Only Buruma, she destroyed him because she didn't _know _she was.

And the garrulous Videl. Oh, he hated her above all. She above all would spark the great rancor when he attended that place, that palace for the pigs and the fools as she tugged on his shoulder. She didn't give up, it was insane, the thought she was beautiful, she thought she was a girl. He for one wasn't sure.

Then there was the contentious boyfriend that obviously didn't satisfy the she-male. He was dragged in a social war, high school politics disgusted him.

The insolent fools. The very thought tired him.

He could do it. His hand twitched, he could feel the energy building up...

He needed it as he needed Bejiita, as he needed Buruma, he needed to kill, to just once taste blood and forever become an addict.

* * *

"Just what're you aiming at, Bejiita?"

The man smiled. It was curiously handsome, charming even, and that in itself was disgusting and daunting enough.

"Gohan's not like he was before. You can't train him, he's a firecracker..."

He was bent over, examining something. He looked so ordinary. So human, but his fluid motions were inhuman, and when he tilted his head up and their eyes met, Pikkoro stepped back.

Bejiita allowed himself to be read, and as he advanced Pikkoro's hands flew into position. "You're insane. He'll turn on you, too. You can't harness that."

"Oh, as a matter of fact I can. You see, I'm like a mentor, a father now. He looks up to me so."

"He'll figure out you're using him and he'll kill you."

Pikkoro stared at Bejiita's rich laughter, "Oh, you really _are _a fool! He knows! He's been _begging _to be used. He's a glutton for punishment."

"You're _sick, _Bejiita!" He did not miss Bejiita's twisted smile. Just the thought, just the hint of the sexual tension between the two was enough to knot his stomach. So that was how he did it.

"And your whining is trivial at this point."

He trapped him in his most vulnerable moment and he raped him, didn't he? He was probably so confused. Pikkoro had no clue that it would even touch Bejiita, no matter how devious, to touch another male, much less a _boy, _"Leave Gohan alone, Bejiita!"

"Is that a challenge, Green One?"

The sycophant! He was a fool. He couldn't possibly avoid eventual calamity. He just couldn't. And Pikkoro wouldn't allow it. Bejiita would not get away feely after molesting the boy. "You say he's like your son... and yet..."

Bejiita smiled, a slow, ominous smile and Pikkoro's anger only reached new heights, "We're very _touchy_, that's all. After I _penetrated _that stone wall that Kakarotto built."

"You sick **fool**!" Pikkoro roared, thrusting his fist in Bejiita's direction.

And Bejiita grabbed it and grinned to the side. Pikkoro caught the glance and there he was. There was something angelic about the pale boy in solid black. There was something that set him aloof, he seemed so young and lost, standing behind cherry blossoms dancing in the wind.

His eyes were wide, he looked ill. And Bejiita let Pikkoro's fist go to grasp the boy's shoulders. In an instant, he flinched and relaxed against the man's chest. He bent his head, his lips brushed against his ears, "Do it. Offer yourself to me, let me _have _you."

Bejiita's arms slid down, down until they were crossed over Gohan's chest, and Gohan sighed in pleasure, "What about Buruma?"

"He went crazy, he was about to attack the boy. You couldn't let an infant very well be hurt, could you?"

"No. Never."

"Gohan!" Pikkoro pleaded for the boy to wake from his trance, but Bejiita stooping over him, he had to take the chance and get Bejiita out of the picture. Without getting killed himself.

He stepped forward, preparing to launch another attack on Bejiita. Only one thought was going through his head. _'Where are you, Gokou? Can't you see Bejiita is touching your son?'_

"He's just a pompous fool, his existence is useless. Why're you waiting?" The words seduced him, and in pain he stared at Bejiita and his virulent words.

Bejiita could extricate him from his bonds, his morals, he could hide him from the memory of the beautiful Son Gokou. And what could Pikkoro do? Bring back the loving memories. Pikkoro could only debilitate.

The truth was so vivid, and yet... it was inscrutable in its own way. Bejiita had been so forbearing in his own way, so patient, waiting for the right moment, he was gracious, he owed it to him, did he not?

He wanted to scratch out the noise in his ears.

He did what he had to. Pikkoro simply deserved to die. He _could've _helped him. _He _could've stopped him, could've avoided thrusting him into Bejiita's arms, he brought this upon himself.

Bejiita's pretty soldier, standing ready, pale face, his jagged spikes.

* * *

He didn't know it would hurt so bad. Bejiita said to take it, everything in life hurt.

There was something curious about the pain. Something faintly enjoyable, something that forever bound him to Bejiita.

And when he left..

Gohan watched, servile, like a dog patiently waiting for years for his master to return after the first hunting expedition, and he would wait five years in the shadows.

* * *

Okay. Wow. I decided that I wanted to do everything else in flashback. Hope that's okay. If you're confused, at this point I don't care and that reflects your overall intelligence. If I used too many words that were too big or that you didn't even know were in the English language, too bad, get a dictionary. In addition to that, have a nice day, enjoy this, and go bug Vegeta Goddess to update The Awakening so I'll be happy and update my own fics.

Reviewer's Corner: 

WolfGazer325: I'm doubting I'm going to have Gokou intervene. People just want that too badly. If he does, I'll find some way for him to end up back in heaven.

Kyrene: I do NOT like Videl. Yanno what's weird? A lot of people are actually waiting for a Buruma/Gohan lemon and he's like 13. Okay, I'm not that gross. And what's even MORE bizarre is that people want a Gohan/Bejiita/Buruma lemon. Ugh.

Star-Brella: Buruma's feelings towards Gohan are supposed to be conflicted and unclear. If you're looking for a Buruma/Bejiita fic, you're wasting your time.

Vegeta Goddess: I certainly hope you enjoyed this. I only added a little more, spell/typo checked, and whatever else. I figured it would be wise to just skip those years because this fic really is going to have more eventful chapters unlike some of my other fics where it's chapter 20 and we just barely stopped introducing things. There will be many, many flashbacks, especially if I can convince myself to do the probable Gohan/Bura sequel, but I've stated too much to post in the story, that should be spoken of in secret. 


	5. Control

**Chemicals**

He watched her for five years. Watched as she grew and changed and he hated her for changing. She didn't need to change. She was perfect before she became so calm and sweet. She was no longer a loaded gun. He hated her for changing. He hated the reason she changed.

The damned child. He started having dreams about killing it. He had her eyes. He loved to get into trouble and she would follow eventually. And then there was the other brat. His brother. He hated the stupid child even more. At least Torankusu possessed some of his parents' qualities that he could feel some sort of affection for him. No, Goten, Goten was just a pest.

And Buruma, she would smile sadly and pull the boy away from him, "Now go play with Trunks, Goten. Gohan has work to do."

She never really touched him. Gohan noticed that after the first month he lived there. Never once save for a few hugs where her shoulder brushed against his chest.

Bejiita. Oh, he was the dark genius, the beautiful God he worshipped. Never again save for that one time did he touch Gohan. He would beg at first. _Beg. _But Bejiita never gave in and left him longing in his black room. The desire never went away. Buruma was his first kiss and Bejiita took his virginity. He didn't know which he loved or desired more, but he wanted to _control _both of them.

Bejiita was so arrogant. Just once to see him under him, just once to hear him moan for something only he could give the man, just once to have control, he was going insane because he didn't _control _anything. The only time he was in control was when he fought Pikkoro and Pikkoro fell.

It was not only for Bejiita that he fought. It was in Bejiita's name. Bejiita had much to do with the reason he wanted to kill him, he would've done anything for Bejiita. He would've thrown his life in danger at any moment to please his dark master. But that one reason did have a spark of selfishness to it. Pikkoro had a personal offense against Gohan. He left him alone. And he had to pay the price, because Gohan was no longer alone. He found someone else, someone better.

And in a way he owed Pikkoro for rejecting him. It he hadn't, then he would've never went to Bejiita that day and kissed Buruma and desired Bejiita and nothing would have ever worked out the way that it had. He loved his torture.And even more so he loved the control Bejiita handed him when he fought and conquered.

But then when he was about to kill him, Bejiita stepped in and took over. Bejiita kicked the frog away and they left and he received his prize.

But even so, in the palpable darkness as Gohan watched over the roof, his master training there was some deep rooted masochism, a need to be controlled, the thirst that only Bejiita could quench. He wanted to be in control-once, maybe, but it wasn't Bejiita that he wanted to in complete control of. It would be contrary to everything he knew and loved.

It wasn't long after his first few months at school that Buruma'd mentioned his lack of friends-and female attention with a bit of a timid and soft voice. After that, Videl became what she wanted to be-his girlfriend and became well known throughout the school. But he was not _feared. _

Gohan wanted to be feared.

He looked over his shoulder. Videl was sleeping on his bed, nude. He tired her easily and yet there was no satisfaction, he wasn't even given enough to pretend that she was Buruma. Years had passed since the first time he stole her virginity, and yet she was always left breathless and insane with pleasure.

She wasn't worthy of him. He wanted to break her, he wanted to kill her, in fact, but Buruma...

He would dream of her at night. On occasion, Bejiita too, but mainly her, and he would wake up throbbing to the point where sometimes he found himself outside her door, trying to flush himself back to his senses and not go in and just _take _what he wanted from her.

He saw his mother from time to time. She always looked sad. He was quite fond of her, it was Goten that offended him. His mother was selfless, and eventually though her depression she came to peace with the fact that her son wouldn't come home and clinged to Goten. When Goten and Torankusu were playing and she had the opportunity, they would walk together and he could remember the warm sensation he'd forgotten when she gently hugged him from behind and began to sob.

He held her, looking out towards the world with cold eyes, bearing the gleam of a radical, and yet they were thoughtful and kind when she looked up at him. She brushed a bit of his hair away and he let her cling to him until she became his mother again, strong and stern. That happened to be when Goten stumbled in.

_"Momma! Lookie what Trunks did!"_

_"I did not! He's lying, ChiChi!"_

_"Mommy!" _Goten whined, pointing with force to the gash on his elbow.

She dried her tears and ripped her eyes from his, turning back to the children, brisk and calm as any other day. Gohan glowered, and only Trunks seemed to catch on towards the great enmity that was seething from Gohan. Gokou bequeathed the boy with his looks, and so it was natural that ChiChi would so gently tend to the rat, taking him in her arms and letting him snuggle against her warm breasts. Her eyes didn't lie, she was far, far away. Past. Past. Past.

Videl was slowly awakening, just as the twilight faded into the night. The pale light that could only indicate innocent morning and beginnings were slowly coming to a start. He felt her arms slide around his chest as he looked over the balcony. His eyes were on Bejiita, exiting the Gravity Chamber with vague breath from fasting and intense training all night.

She nuzzled his shoulder from behind with a sigh of content. She was a few months younger than he was, and the hopeless romantic to boot. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

For a moment he thought she was talking about Bejiita, and he nodded, "Yes. He is majestic, stunning, even, he holds a certain power over us all."

She laughed softly against his back, her grasp around his waist tightened a bit. She let out a sweet, "I didn't know you could be so poetic, Gohan.. But I know what you mean. It makes you feel so small, doesn't it? Knowing that it could die and we could just cease to exist, vaporized instantly. We don't bow down to our master the sun often enough, do we?"

"No. I suppose we don't." His voice thickened and they stayed silent as a breeze swept over them. He turned, and she let her grasp loosen until she was walking slightly in front of him, wearing the same shirt that he'd worn and discarded on the floor the night before. It annoyed him slightly, but she was completely unaware. "It's early enough to make breakfast, don't you think?"

"I guess it is." He stretched slightly. He'd dressed himself for the night slightly before, but he knew that he would get no rest. He didn't sleep with company. Sleeping was the greatest form of weakness. Eyes eased closed, breathing soft, and the victim in another world, where on the outside anyone could do virtually anything before the eyes shot open to defend.

Videl was not a threat, he admitted to himself he wasn't afraid of her. It was more the disgust of having to allow her to sleep on his chest, snuggled against his body, that didn't permit him rest. She was unattractive to him in many ways-and he could've had girls that were more beautiful or more intelligent or otherwise even slightly more appealing to him, though none were competition compared to Buruma.

In fact, it was Buruma's fault that he stayed with Videl. The relationship was _cute _and seemingly solid to her. Then there was the fact that she was pleased that Videl was the only child of Hercule. He was rich, but Gohan never really cared to know what he'd done. Just that he was popular among the entire city, and Buruma was impressed that he'd managed to gain so much publicity, especially attention for his outstanding top marks, because of her and her position in society.

Buruma was well-known and cherished in higher society, but Hercule was a celebrity of some sort. Between the two, she would smile and pat him, his future held great promise. And he loved the way her mind worked. Though she honestly thought the two were in love, she was more practical, and almost persuading him to _use _her. The darker side sent a jolt deep within his belly and he had the intense desire to allow lust and passion to take over him, just by hearing such selfish words, because she _only _cared about him and Torankusu and Bejiita. Only.

The rest of the world she was quite willing to step on, quite willing to do anything to make sure they all lived comfortably. Gohan blushed a little as he found her sitting, silently eating in a silk robe when they walked in.

Buruma raised a brow when she looked at Videl and threw a mask over her disdain almost instantly. The girl was wearing Gohan's clothes, or more specifically his shirt, that barely brushed the back of her bottom. Of course it didn't help that Gohan seemed to be staring at her. Who was this girl with her shapely legs, stealing her precious Gohan's attentions from the rest of the world? Exactly who did she think she was, lazily walking about the kitchen as if royalty in a house that was not her own, and calling her by her first name. Buruma frowned, but responded in a lazy, yet sharp, tone, "The bowls are in a cabinet to the right, Videl."

There was the urge to expunge poor Gohan from this vixen that wasn't worth his time or effort, but Buruma plastered a smile on her face and hid the conflagration inside her heart far away to encourage his happiness. The day the girl hurt her Gohan, then she would have Hell to pay. It was just a phase, but the fact that every night almost Gohan was having sex with this girl..

He didn't admit it, the topic was never brought up, Buruma herself was too diffident to tell a teenaged boy to make sure the girl was on birth control or that they used condoms. She couldn't. She could look a mass murderer in the eye and tell him to bathe, but she could not tell Gohan to have safe sex.

She just hoped that Gohan wouldn't be the unfortunate victim of deceit and guile in the end and loose his heart to _that _girl. It seemed implausible as to why he was so taken to her personality. Her body was to die for, it slowly made Buruma more aware of faults that came with age and sinking sadness, but the girl's actual personality was not attractive at all. Buruma suspected duplicity on her part.

She looked casually to the side, and smiled at the more reserved Gohan. He was actually dressed in bottoms and a shirt, his hair a cute mess, but he looked tired. His eyes were slightly red, and Buruma's poignant gaze caught onto slight unsatisfaction with life in them and directly connected it with what she assumed was his dedication to Videl.

He was such a morose thing, really. Even after the popularity rush that Videl brought to his feet, she watched him sit quiet and alone on the railing of the balcony and just stare out into the world as if nothing could cure the sadness inside. It must've been Hell for him, it really must've been. She could picture him, his skin so pale in the dim light as the moon shone through fleecy clouds, as it casted a pale light that his eyes that were pits of oblivion seemed to take in and hold inside.

"I've got to go home and make sure Daddy doesn't know I was gone." Videl winked at Gohan, "I wouldn't want him to get angry I was out with a boy. He'd murder you, Gohan."

Gohan looked up and evenly returned, "Then you'd better go on and get going. Put my shirt in the basket, will you?"

Buruma watched him play with his cereal as she audibly managed up the stairs, rustled for a few moments, another few steps, and the door opened and closed. She let out a deep breath when she was sure that the girl was gone and looked with hope up towards him. "Oh, Gohan.." She slowly started.

He looked up, suddenly he looked older, so much older and more mature than ever, and his face was grave and sad. It was almost as if it'd been chiseled out of stone, "What's wrong?" He softly asked, resting his spoon to the side.

She felt a deadened sensation when he touched her hand and closed her eyes, "Gohan... I realize that you're... fond of Videl, but I think that maybe your way of showing it is a bit extreme." She closed her eyes and pulled her hand back, not realizing that they only touched for a few seconds before she jerked away, not noting the hurt that Gohan buried deep in his heart without even having to look away. "I know I'm not your mother... and so I won't tell you not to be intimate with her." She laughed, trying to cheer the mood, but only fueled insane jealousy when she added, "Yamucha and I, and possibly other boyfriends, did the same at your age... But..."

Gohan felt sick, dryly replying, "She's on birth control." He stood, stiff and rigid in a desperate attempt to not hear her soft moans, her gentle pleading for more from other men, and even though she was Bejiita's, there _were _other men, though usually to spite Bejiita after he'd hurt her by insisting it wasn't a real relationship, "And we use condoms."

Buruma turned six shades of red, looking at the floor, "That's... not what I mean. I know you'll be responsible, even if a mistake is made. I know that you're man enough to fess up to whatever happens, and that you're too intelligent to let a child bring you down. You are on your way to the top, Gohan. You're brilliant, and the world is in your palms." He trembled with eagerness as she gushed, but he fought to look away. "And I just want to know.. is it so serious with Videl that you feel something with you do that with her, or is it only physical release? Am I putting too much pressure on you, Gohan?"

Oh, how could she blame herself? Gohan sat again, looking straight at her, "I.. I don't know. But I know it's not you. You, you only help me, you only comfort me. Don't ever, ever think that again, Buruma." He leaned slightly forward, as if in a dream, but he snapped back before she could see he was leaning in to try to kiss her. He needed her, he needed to show her that he loved her in one way or another. He coughed a bit, "Now, I should probably go see Bejiita before-yeah."

She watched him exit and rubbed her head.

* * *

Torankusu was playing outside the gravity machine. It was odd that an eight year old was up and playing at seven in the morning, but that was Buruma's dear Trunks. A seething anger washed over him and like acid, began to dissolve his remorse for the boy. 

He slowly stepped forward, oh, he could only break a few bones. He wouldn't remember a thing, it would be so fast, oh, he would love to murder the one thing that bound Buruma to another man and take her for himself.

Torankusu looked up and Gohan could smell the cloud of fear that scattered his innocent thoughts. He stood, slowly, realizing that Gohan was making a challenge without really knowing why or how, and also noting that he had no way of beating his opponent. He thought for a second, to call in backup, his father could defeat virtually anyone, but Torankusu stood and stared into Gohan's eyes with a curious dread.

It was almost as if the very air was poisonous. He choked when he tried to murmur, "Good morning, Gohan."

But it was the very second Gohan took an advance on him, so close to touching him, that the doors to the Gravity Chamber opened and Gohan stopped with surprising ability and control.

"Just what in the Hell are you doing?" He picked the boy up by the scruff of his shirt, regardless, Gohan was unsure which of the two his prince was addressing, "Your mother's going to be worried about you and come bitching and moaning to me. Why don't you sleep, Boy? Go... eat." He waved the child off, that made some motion to embrace his leg in an odd and yet very masculine sign of mutual affection. No, Bejiita could not hide his pride in the boy he'd cut out. He scampered off to snuggle against his mother's breast but never tell her that he had come to face his mortality and his father saved his life.

All parties knew exactly how deliberate it was. Gohan didn't try to explain himself, and Bejiita didn't ask. It was obvious he'd been watching from the Gravity Chamber, though Gohan had thought he'd been resting. He _saw _him leave. He walked in, and closed the door. The ominous clank made Gohan cringe as he turned to face his master.

"I-"

"I think it's time that you come to understand one thing. You _are _mine, aren't you?"

"Of course, Prince Bejiita." Gohan watched him slowly begin to move.

"Then prove it."

"How?" He rasped.

"Exactly what did you hope to accomplish by killing my brat?"

"I don't-"

Bejiita sharply cut him off, "Yes, you do. Do not lie to me, Boy."

After a few seconds of breathing, he looked down and his breath slowly released the name, "Buruma."

"Oh?" He raised a brow, "And I should suppose you thought that by murdering her only son that would improve your chances of having sex with her?"

"I don't know..." He whined, looking to the side. And he didn't know. Emotion, confusion rushed over him and he sank back against the metal walls that brought him such beautiful pain over the years.

Bejiita had never before mentioned that he knew about his obsession with Buruma. Gohan liked to think that it was by far the opposite of obvious, but he said it so casually that it was shocking he was alive. He'd just admitted to trying to steal one--and kill another, of his master's possessions.

"Every man has a purpose in life." He walked closer, closer, every step deliberately alluring and the air was replaced with thick and lulling sensuality, "And mine is to conquer and rule. Yours is to serve me, and to serve me alone." Gohan stared when Bejiita crouched down, leaning forward until their noses barely touched, "And yet by doing so you conquer and rule as well." The soft whisper sent chills down the boy's body, and he tried to back against the walls, he tried to hide from his pent up desires, but he couldn't with the object of his attraction so close..

"I don't understand."

"The Earth, Boy, the Earth." Bejiita looked at him for a few moments. He was a man now, barely one, and still so very stupid, but cruel and his to command. "I have things to attend to. My son is coming with me." He turned, slowly walking to the panel to open the doors.

Gohan barely registered these words before he bolted up, "No!" His eyes welled and cold pain shot through his entire body, "Don't leave me."

The anger towards Torankusu was so great that Bejiita could feel it in the air and when he turned slowly to watch the boy try to compose himself, he laughed. "There are many things that need to be taken care of on Earth."

He stopped short, staring at Bejiita, "What are you getting at?"

"You have to make sure that these Earthling fools are well taken care of. Don't kill them, not all of them at least. They do make such good slaves."

"I..." He slowly tried to find the words in the thick air but choked. Bejiita couldn't leave him, not like Pikkoro, and slowly he was able to rasp, "When are you going to come back?"

"Soon." Bejiita's eyes looked out the window, towards the kitchen of the Capsule Corporations where Buruma could be seen, even through the thick air, tending to her son. "_All _humans are now yours to command. "

* * *

**Reviewer's Corner:**

**Kyrene: Hmn. Doubting as well, but hey, in the end he's getting exactly what he wants. I wanted to place yaoi of some sort in here but could not find the opportunity, actually thought Bejii was borderline OOC to be honest.**

**Vegeta Goddess: We're going to take a break on the slash for a while. Like I said, I couldn't find the place to add slash in this chapter though I wanted to. Suggestions would be great, I may be able to post some sort of lime at the start of the next chapter.**

**E: Here's your update!**


	6. Beginnings

**Chemicals**

"What do you think you're doing?"

"He's getting ready for school, Bejiita." Buruma rolled her eyes, digging through her son's closet, "Did Gohan already leave?"

"And why do you think I would know that?" He sarcastically hissed, crossing his arms over his chest.

Buruma sighed in aggression, "Because he said he was going to see you after he left the breakfast table." She said every word slowly, as if Bejiita was stupid, but in her anger she did not care to look when Bejiita's hand squeezed his son's shoulder and they slowly exited the room.

Torankusu stared at his father, confused but not ready to correct the man. They barely made it down the hall when Buruma came chasing after, muttering, "Bejiita I told you he cannot train today. He has school."

He didn't bother look at her, "He doesn't need to attend today."

"Just a second here, Bejiita! He can't just go around skipping school! He's barely eight! This is not-"

"Because the boy is not intelligent enough to catch up? Because it's not a waste of his time?" Bejiita sharply glared at the woman, but she sighed deeply, closing her eyes. She tapped her nail against her arm in an attempt to calm herself. Bejiita was a clever demon, she knew very well he was right and more than that he'd sparked her own pride, she taught her son much more in a week at Capsule Corporations with her than he could ever learn at those foolish schools-public or private nothing seemed to challenge the boy.

Even so, it was necessary to make sure he learned to get along with other children his age and had a life as a child, a normal life, and training with his father was not _normal. _Bejiita did not take him fishing, he insisted on turning the boy into his own little soldier the way Buruma desired he would become the next president of Capsule Corporations.

She sighed, "Okay, Bejiita, but please don't start to make this a habit."

* * *

Torankusu looked to his father with eager eyes, "He tried to kill me..." 

"I know."

"He really tried to kill me, Father."

Bejiita stopped at the Gravity Chamber's entrance, and as he dialed the code, in a sharp voice he asked, "Do you want me to kill him?"

The boy almost fell back, violently shaking his head, "N-no, Father, of course not!"

Bejiita stared at the perplexed boy for a moment. "You are a prince, Boy. But you are also half Human."

"Yes, Father."

"So now it's time for you to decide."

"I don't understand." Torankusu stared at his father. His great father that spoke in riddles, harsh and cold, he personified power and control. He was distant, always locking himself away in this room, this Gravity Chamber of mystery and his father would sweat and bleed, and sometimes Gohan would join him, and he knew they were not fighting-from time to time he could see Gohan in tears, but Bejiita sneered and sauntered away. His mind could not comprehend what the metal walls concealed, he could never bring himself to think that his father would ever be attractive to dark Gohan, Gohan that he caught with Videl.

He knew his mother was uneasy about the subject of Gohan in general. When the boy asked about Gohan's attitude towards his younger brother, why he lived with them, she would change the subject quickly. When he asked about why Videl was always there, why she would walk around half-naked, Buruma would reply with concise and aggravated tones.

And his father was not one for speaking. He was a great stone wall that could not be penetrated, not for information, not for emotion, and Torankusu admired and loved him. But mostly there was pride in his father, the fact that he was so very powerful, the awesome and magnificent power that he hoped to one day achieve even half of what his father had.

"Which would you rather be, Boy? Saiya-Jin royalty or a Human?" He clarified in annoyance.

"Saiya-Jin royalty, of course!" He smugly answered.

Bejiita let out a grin, his sharp teeth seemed to scintillate in the red glow of the room. He turned to watch the controls of the device, "I'm leaving. The woman doesn't and will not know. I will personally oversee your training, that is if you're going to join me."

"Father..." Torankusu's eyes widened a bit, "Leave... to where?"

"There is an abandoned military base that once belonged to a psychotic fool. In the end, he and his pathetic empire met their own _tragic _ends. We will set up a temporary living space, long enough to obtain ships, supplies, armor, and information."

"Information?"

A sinister grin at the innocent curiosity, "For your training. It is sent in by machines, most of which possibly still reporting on target planets, and you will begin your training."

"I want to come." An excited whisper, he had no idea, absolutely no idea what Hell he'd just signed up for, what he had just dedicated himself to, and with no clue that he would rarely see his mother over a scale of the next few years.

* * *

He was sitting on a tree, knees up, staring over the landscape. He needed to escape the world, and elevated places soothed him, he was hidden from the pathetic world, he was so very high, calm, almost content, when _he _had to show up, "What do you want?" 

"Have you decided to accept my proposition, Gohan?"

"And why would I?" He lazily leaned back, resting his head on laced fingers. He pulled his knee up and let one leg hang over the branch.

"He trains you and yet you're as insolent as ever."

Gohan felt anger's sharp razor, but breathed slowly, calmly, "Oh, don't make me kill you, Pikkoro."

"I can help you."

He pressed his weight on his palms and sat up, resting his chin on his erect knee, "And what makes you so self-righteously think that I might need your help?"

"Gohan, you are sick. Do you think Bejiita was the only one that saw the way you looked at Torankusu this morning?"

"Oh, so now are you planning on corrupting my master's son, stalking him now, are you? Should I be jealous?" His eyes danced and he watched Pikkoro flinch in anger.

But Pikkoro knew Bejiita, and in that he knew Gohan well enough to know when the boy was taunting him. His voice would get bored, and he would stare down at his opponent with glittering obsidian eyes, such dark desires Pikkoro could see, such great sickness. And he was merely amused, always merely amused.

"You know, if you weren't so green I may want to fuck you too. Is that what this is all about, Pikkoro? Are you jealous of my prince? Do you envy my desire to _fuck _him?"

"Gohan, you are _sick._" Pikkoro breathed, clinching his fists. He could not believe his Gohan could be so twisted, sitting on a tree, arrogant as Bejiita and ten times more insane. Bejiita was a fool, it was proof now that he was mad. He'd been watching him on and off for five years, and it was recently that he'd had flashes of anger, now that Goten was around so often, he'd suspected.

In most cases, he was calm and angry, or lusty, but lately he was _dangerous _and his advance on Torankusu only hours before, like a cat waltzing in on his prey, _enjoying _the timid creature's fear, _lapping _it up as it it were sweet cream, it was a child. Yes, Bejiita's child, but he was a child and Gohan had the gall to try to attack him _in front _of the area Bejiita trained at.

"What would Gokou think?" Another voice raised from the crowd. Bushes rustled for a few moments, and Gohan looked upon two men he had not for many years. Yamucha had his hands rested on his hips, Kuririn, a little more timid, a little more aware of what he was dealing with, for he _knew _Gohan was Bejiita's product.

None of them could understand Bejiita. He'd made his threat known five years prior to, and yet made no move. When Pikkoro called the the remaining warriors, he could only contact two volunteers to confront Gohan and change history's pace before horrors occurred, in the name of Son Gokou that only fought for peace, they would save his son.

Gohan's attention slowly directed itself towards the man.

"Yes, what would Gokou think? You're having sex, with _both _women and _men, _following Bejiita like a mindless puppy, what would your father think? Is this what he brought you up to be?"

"Shut up." Gohan hissed, looking to the side, away from Yamucha's defiant gaze. He wanted to kill the man for even mentioning his attraction to Bejiita that he had so coolly taunted Pikkoro with seconds before, the desire made the very blood in his veins ache, but Kuririn found strength and stood next to the man, sensing the shift in the air, Gohan's pain and Gohan's weakness, and with the only hope that he would end up a crying and sobbing mass, and the pain that a thirteen year old could not handle would shed with his tears, and an eighteen year old man would emerge and all of this would end, continued.

"He left the Earth in your protection, you know. He expected you to train the boys, to keep Bejiita in check, to take his place as the leader of the Earth's forces. And what are you? An angry brat hiding in a tree."

And the monsters came back, with their hissing voices, as the criticism lashed at him from every side, so much so that it crashed like a wave upon his very flesh, so much so that he could not breathe and he was thirteen again, stumbling in his room because the voices were so very damn overwhelming, because monsters whispered his fathers name, oh why did they have to speak the forbidden name so many times?

"Gokou was a peaceful man. He only fought for good, what would he think? You tried to kill a child, and for what, Gohan?"

Their whips, tongues, lashed and lashed until he was soaking in blood, he could not find himself any closer to the trunk of the tree, there was nowhere to go, it was as if he could not find the power to leave, and there was so much anger, that they would speak his name, that they would dare speak _his _name.

"Of course there's to think, your own little brother. Look at the way you treat him and your mother. Gokou would be so very proud."

The monsters returned, spitting vivid fire at him, and the pain was to the extent that he could not move, he could not scream, he wanted to shriek, he wanted to bring the entire Earth to burning ruins, but he stared at them with a shaking body, and he was _shaking _so very much, in anger or hurt he did not know or care, what mattered was the fact that these people, these _friends _of Son Gokou's were the source of emotions he did not like to feel.

"Gokou had so many hopes for you. You were so smart, so pure, with an amazing potential. I bet it's died. Do you know why he was so much stronger than your _God, _Bejiita? Because he was pure. Because Bejiita only desires to strengthen himself."

His eyes began to burn a vivid scarlet, if not on the outside then the in, a whine deep in his throat was emitted, and he could feel the liquid Hell rising from deep within the empty cavity of his chest, somewhere deep from within, and it was burning, wrenching and wringing to _escape. _

"Bejiita does not care about you. He cares for no one other than himself. What did you think you were doing, letting him lead you around as if he cared? As if he could ever take Gokou's place? Gokou would get a kick out of that one. You're a joke. An insult to his name and all that he fought for."

He opened his mouth to let out the soft laments when his dark God appeared to save his very black soul. Bejiita landed with the elements of grace and in arrogant curiosity looked from one man to another, as if daring them to continue to taunt _his _slave. Gohan's eyes, red once before and now calm and amused again, matched Bejiita's, black, black, _evil, sinister._

Amid the rising darkness, Gohan landed on the soft forest floor, resting a hand on Bejiita's shoulder, "Have you met my father?"

"You have my permission to do whatever you like with them." Bejiita moved back, leaning against the trunk of the tree with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, as if watching a show, waiting to be entertained.

At the words, excitement pulsed through Gohan's very body and he lunged forward. Taking three on at once was no real challenge. Kuririn was the first he knocked out, slamming his fist into the man's back, he went soaring into the soil. Yamucha was thrust into a tree when Gohan's leg flung out. Only Pikkoro was fast enough to avert attacks, only Pikkoro was skilled enough to provide temporary amusement.

But it all came to an end, his combinations were all the same, he'd learned no new tricks. He _was _stronger at one time many years ago, but Gohan was the more powerful of the two and Pikkoro found his face in the soil. The young man stepped over the Namekian fool, he stared at Yamucha with an intense loathing.

This, the man that had had sex with _his _Buruma, this the man that had just dared to bring up a subject taboo, this the man that thought he was enough to beat him, this the man that was cowardly enough to attempt to attack three on one, and still lost.

He grabbed him by his hair, and as his hand was about to trust into his chest, the horrible, horrible things he could do to him while he was still alive, and then just leave him to die...

But Bejiita's hand grabbed his fist and he dropped. Oh, how Bejiita would've _liked _to see the fool die, to see any of them die, but they merely stepped over the three as if carpet, nothing, and back to Capsule Corporations they went.

* * *

"You are weak." 

Gohan stared, he could not handle to have displeased his master as well, he groped for words, but could only find, "What can I do?"

"He was a fool. He was no father, he _abandoned _you, he wanted you in my care and so you are no longer his son. He did not recognize your potential, he was so very strong, why did he not stay to make sure you were properly trained as I am my son? He is trash, he is nothing, do you understand me?" Bejiita grabbed Gohan's neck, forcing their faces together so that Gohan could _see _the rage.

And Gohan nodded slowly, "What is strong enough, Master?"

"Until you could very well walk up to him, kill him, spit in his face, you are _not _strong enough."

"Yes, Master." Gohan submissively responded, freed of Bejiita's grasp, another day, another bruise that he would treasure until the end of time.

"Another thing... A bit of advice. Do _not _kill any of the fool's comrades, or a massive amount of Earthlings. Do you understand me?"

"Clearly... But why?"

Bejiita gave out a grin, but he did not speak. If many Earthlings died, it wouldn't take long before the fool were to figure it out. He was so preoccupied with being a moron that he hadn't once bothered to glance down at Earth, the Lords of the world were so confident in Gohan that they did not bother either.

If one of the fool's comrades were to be able to contact him in the plan's most dangerous stage, he would surely be resurrected. Bejiita had in his possession one of the DragonBalls for security, but his delicate plan could not be concealed forever, and Gohan understood.

Why did Pikkoro not use his own divine connections to get hold of the other world? He _tried. _But Gokou would see no emergency, not unless people were dying, because he had faith in his son. He had his own direct orders for Kai. But neither Bejiita nor Gohan knew this, neither had the security of knowing Gokou sentenced the world to something horrible in the future because he had faith in the greatest threat.

* * *

"Buruma..." 

She blinked, staring up from her cold seat at her computer, "Is something wrong, Gohan? You didn't go to school today again, huh?"

He smiled a bit, "I'm... very tired."

"I see. Well, it's not as if you're going to be missing anything. Yamucha came over earlier, you know."

Gohan's eyes sharpened, he crossed his arms over his chest, but he only seemed to show concern to Buruma, "What did he want?"

She blushed a bit, "Do you promise not to tell Bejiita?"

"Of course... what happened?"

"Well, first he tried to," She blushed, "Apparently he doesn't have much faith in my fidelity to Bejiita. And then he kept asking about you."

Gohan's eyes narrowed. Not even so much that Yamucha was attempting to turn his precious Buruma away from her as that he had tried to _touch _what was _his. _His arms slowly rested on her shoulders, "I'm so sorry to hear that, Buruma."

She flinched a bit, and hurt, he removed his hands almost instantly. "He's been acting weird lately. And still weird, Kuririn called too. I guess they're just worried about you, because, you know..."

"My father's death anniversary is coming up, isn't it?" He casually asked.

She looked up, half expecting him to have known it perfectly well, but she only nodded, "Yes. They mean well."

"Please, if they ask any more about me, don't hear of it... In fact," He reached for her hand, desperate now, "Don't contact them at all, will you? Not now, anyway."

"Gohan..." She looked at their hands and he dropped it back into her lap, this time gentle, with more meaning. Sympathy gushed through her, and she sighed, "Of course, Gohan."

"Thank you. So much."

After an awkward silence, she looked up to him, "So was there something you needed?"

"No, not really... Just..."

"What?"

"Could you tell me how you met my father?"

Buruma smiled at the memory, "I was a very selfish girl." Gohan smiled in approval, "Searching for the DragonBalls. And one was in his possessions. I won't lie to you, at first I was merely using him as a body guard in the journey I only realized would be perilous after I met him. He seemed to beckon danger, you know?"

There was a sudden deep anger, a jealousy at the smile, a deathly soft, "Just how close were you to my father?"

She looked at her lap, with a quiet, "I'm not so sure you're old enough to ask me that question, Gohan."

"I want to know." He darkly returned.

She sighed, "Once. Only once. He loved your mother so very much, Gohan..." She patted his hand a bit, flinching when she felt him tense, but she did not know that he tensed in pain.

"What happened?" He demanded with a hoarse voice.

She stared at him with sympathetic eyes, "Why are you doing this?"

"Tell me."

Buruma closed her eyes, "Okay. But what I'm going to ask you is unfair. Please do not think ill of your father, or of me."

He sighed, "Tell me."

"Promise, at least don't blame him."

"Fine." He hissed.

"I thought I was going to die." She laughed bitterly, "After everything, I thought to myself 'This is it.' I'd survived countless adventures with Gokou and Yamucha and Kuririn, but there I was, like a scared little girl in a corner. They wanted him. To lure him in, they kidnapped me. You were very young, I doubt you would remember. But he went in, and he saved the world like he always did." She closed her eyes, "You have no idea what it's like to think you're going to die and to suddenly see a man as handsome as Gokou just show up at the last minute to completely destroy their plans. I knew he was married, I knew he had a son, forgive me, I didn't care. Before we could meet up with the others later that night, I kissed him."

"Did you have sex?"

"Gohan..."

"Did he _fuck _you?"

She sighed painfully. Why did he ask such things of her? Was he mocking her? Trying to strike more guilt in her heart? Of course there was remorse. Gokou was an incredibly attractive man but she had caused him to be unfaithful to his own wife when he had a child with her to boot. She looked at her lap, silent, and all he made her feel like was a whore, some cheap trash that attempted to wreck a home.

"He did, didn't he? Well, how was it?" He laughed, staring at her, "How was my father?"

"Just how am I supposed to respond to that?"

"Yes, I'm sure it was mind-blowing. After all, all you had at the time was Yamucha."

"Just hold on there, Gohan! You have no right, no right," She glared at him, "To sit here and be angry about something that happened years ago."

"On the contrary, don't you think I have every right to know exactly what went on between you and my father?"

She blinked at how hellbent he was on receiving each and every detail. "You're not going to leave this alone, are you?"

"Of course not."

Buruma closed her eyes, turning red, and lightly murmuring, "You know how people have sex, Gohan. I kissed him, he kissed back. Articles of clothes were removed, sweet nothings with no real meanings were whispered, and..." She coughed a bit.

"What sort of things did you say? No, wait, what did _he _say to _you_?"

She knew she deserved this, but she hadn't expected that the day someone found out it would be Gohan, or that he would so angrily demand such things. "I told you it all meant nothing. I told him he was perfect, that he had the body of a god and I loved him, whatever else. He said I was beautiful, he loved me, but it was all established that neither of us meant it at all, Gohan."

"Of course you didn't." Gohan wanted to go brood, to kill something, but the pain made his heart so heavy his legs could not move. His Buruma, that had belonged to Bejiita, belonged to Yamucha, had belonged to his own damned father...

"Okay. I deserved this." Buruma turned in her chair, "I really did. And I am so, so sorry Gohan. I understand you're angry, and that you won't ever think of me the same way..." She sighed, all she could do was sigh, helpless as the deep thud in her chest. "There's absolutely nothing I can do to soften this anger, I know."

"I'm not angry. I'm not mad at you." He laughed, laughed as if it were a great joke, so thick that Buruma stared at him, squinting, hurt and insulted, "It's all quite funny to me, really. Angry? At you? No, never. I'm just insanely jealous, you see." And then his face was serious.

She stared at him, touching what seemed to be made out of stone with light fingertips and he held her wrist there for a few seconds before guiding it back to her lap.

"No, just insanely jealous, you see..." He softly stated, leering into wide blue eyes, brilliant and radiant diamonds that could sense the appropriateness of the word _insanely. _

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed this. Nine pages! Wooh! I tried to come back and edit some stuff that either was horrible grammar or just didn't make much sense, mind you I write very late at night. **

**Reviewer's Corner:**

**Vegeta Goddess: So Torankusu and Bejiita are gone, bye bye, and next chapter we'll prolly have a Gohan/Buruma lemon, of course he's going to start establishing his reign over the earth...**

**Kyrene: Yeah, I have a thing about my hot characters ruling the world/universe/some random planet...**


	7. Seduced

**Chemicals**

Buruma stared at Gohan, her blue orbs seemed to widen at the way he was looking at her, the primal urge to pounce her at that very second so obviously placed in his eyes. And then there was fear. Fear, as her foot touched the metal floor and she tried to push back, back, but his hand grasped the chair effortlessly leaned over and there it was.

"Gohan..." She murmured, shaking her head, "I'm flattered but..."

He smiled, tilting his head to the side as if watching her with fascination, "But you belong to Bejiita..."

"I don't _belong _to anyone!" She hissed letting her pride react before she could stifle her spirit.

And his eyes started to sparkle with such very intended sensuality, "Yes, that's right, I forgot. You're independent, you can do whatever you want, isn't that right?" Yet, he was mocking her. Her face hardened in reply.

She stared at him, her solemn, quiet Gohan that she thought she knew. He was a tortured child, but she was _not _going to let him think that meant it was okay to rape her. "Gohan, yes, I am _involved with _someone, but what about you? What about Videl?"

He tilted his head over, brushing his nose over the curve of her neck, "She means nothing..." He murmured, but his body froze. She tried to take the chance to move, but his hand was on her waist, "Let's go sit down together, please?"

Buruma looked at Gohan. His hand was light, not demanding, but requesting, '_Or sincerely recommending.' _She sourly noted. She wasn't sure what Gohan was capable of. She could recall violent fits after Gokou passed away, she could recall soft anger throughout his teen years, but never could she have foreseen him leaning over her in her lab, his lips so close to parting so that he could taste her flesh...

He was watching her with sharp eyes, all the time his hand on her hip, all the time waiting for her to lose her nerve. Through the quiet, painfully white halls, everything was a wretched metal, without emotion or sympathy for Buruma, even his handsome jaw seemed to be a smooth firmness as they silently walked away from the Capsule Corporation lab and towards the living portion of the maze.

Then, there they were, outside her room and he pleasantly smiled at her, cocking his head the the side. '_He's... waiting for me to invite him in.' _Buruma stared, and then maybe she could just help Gohan, maybe she could just get to the bottom of this sudden, frightening attitude he took on only, oh, an hour ago? Was it only an hour ago?

She sat on her bed and there was an awkward rustle as he stood, arms crossed over his chest over her door, like a guard, but it was almost more like he wanted to keep something _out _than making her stay _in. _"Your father and I..." She coughed...

"That doesn't matter now, now does it?"

"I just want you to know it never _meant _anything to either of us, Gohan, I promise. Stop this, now." As calm as she tried to force her voice to be, it wouldn't come out right, and he smiled as her tone changed from gentle and patient to a great fear.

She stared with wide, curious eyes as her bed flinched under new weight, and as simply as that he was sitting next to her with a firm hand on her shoulder. "Look, I'm afraid I can't stop anything, Buruma. It's out of everyone's control now."

She stared at him, "Just what are you talking about?"

He scoffed, "Don't tell me you couldn't even sense the fact that your own son isn't even on this planet."

And she tried to jump up, but his hand on her shoulder was like stone pulling her deeper into water, into her own world with him forever. Her son, Bejiita, were in the sky, but she and Gohan found a different realm to be free in. Or at least, that was how _he _saw it. She looked at him with anguished eyes, "What are you talking about?"

"Don't take such a dangerous tone with me, Buruma." He touched her cheek, like she was something delicate and would break if his thumb pressed too hard against smooth, milky skin. "I couldn't stand it if you were angry with me."

"Gohan, tell me!" She demanded, slapping at his hand.

He sighed in annoyance, "If you insist. Bejiita and Torankusu decided to go on a training mission in space. There?"

She stared.

"Buruma? Buruma, you're looking rather pale, you should lay down." And she did. Her head lay on his lap, and there was something almost loving about the way he would run his hand over her back, as if she were a house pet, a cat, she thought at first. But there was something way too tender about the way he held her there, as if she was by far too precious to touch him but he was afraid that she would leave, something almost selfless about how he watched her silently.

"...You let him take away my son?" She tilted her head to look at him.

"I couldn't do anything about it. I noticed he'd taken one of the spare chambers a few months ago, but I figured it was for more advanced training away from us. He lowered both their kis considerably, I didn't really notice it."

"Just what the Hell is going on?"

"He'd talked about leaving into space with Torankusu for maybe a month to train," Gohan calmly lied, never stopped moving his hand over her back to soothe her pain, "But only that long, and when he said it, I'd always thought he wanted Torankusu closer to my age. But he did say that it was my job when he was gone, to take _care _of things."

"Take care of what?"

Gohan chuckled, "So many questions, Buruma, you're going to make yourself sick. Like I said, he'll be back in a month or so. I'm sure he will."

"What did you mean when you said everything was out of your control now? What did you have to do with him taking my boy out into space?"

Gohan sighed, "Fine. I'll tell you, Buruma, but you won't like it. I'm not going to sugar-coat it," His voice was hard and scary again, but it was almost comfortable to hear him use it, "The fact is that Bejiita wants me to take care of Earth and everything that was his is now mine."

"Bejiita didn't _have _anything, Gohan! And he never cared about protecting the Earth!"

Gohan laughed again, his hand resting in the middle of her back, "I never said that by _taking care _of the Earth he meant_ protecting _it. And you're so very wrong, he did have one thing. Something very beautiful and precious..." His hand moved down to caress her jaw.

Her body jerked up and she stared at him with fearful eyes, "No.."

"He was a prince, after all, Buruma. He deserves a kingdom again, you know. He deserves their respect—no, they should _worship _him for letting them all live. But there's always just one special one, isn't there?" His voice was calm again and he rested his hands on her hips, pulling her closer to his chest, "He was so very fond of you, but he couldn't stand the possibility that you could continue to be poisoned by Son Gokou's babble about peace and love."

"Son Gokou? He's your father, Gohan."

"My _father _is dead. No, he doesn't even exist anymore. Bejiita is my master and my father."

Buruma stared at Gohan, "So what? You've going to kill them all except me? Join Bejii in space? Is that the great, big plan?"

Gohan laughed, "Oh, I do love that spirit of yours. No, not at all. He has plans for the Earth, he has plans for the Human race, and they will live as long as they obey. But you, your fate is much more significant than any of theirs, because you, _you _are special."

"And what are you going to do with me?" She was stared at him with determined eyes that he loved, that said '_I am not afraid of what you tell me.' _

"Oh, isn't that much obvious by now?" He leaned forward, closing his eyes and rested his head on her shoulder so long to just take in her scent. It was intoxicating, something men would fight and die over, and she deserved to be with the best and the strongest.

To his surprise, she began to laugh, "Oh, I see. I'm your sex slave."

"That's such a harsh term for it. You're my _companion_."

She glared at him, pushing him away from her. Buruma's hand was on the door knob when he stopped her with a snort, "You can leave, but there's panic and chaos in the streets right now, and I don't think they're going to like to see you since you've already been listed as one of Master X's VIPs. Humans," He sighed, leaning back on her bed, using his entwined fingers to serve as a makeshift pillow, "They whine and bitch for a while, but they're afraid of authority that flexes its muscles. History proves it can be done and I can convince them I am their god if I wanted to."

Buruma stared.

"It's amazing, for a genius how can you not pay attention to what's going on around you?"

"Master X?" She raised a brow.

Gohan moved off the bed, "I think I'll tell you about it in a minute."

Slowly, he moved closer to her. Her hand was on the door, but his hand was on her. They slowly slithered over her body and crossed over her chest. He rested his chin on her shoulder and she closed her eyes in defeat, resting her forehead against the door.

'_Just keep breathing... breathe... breathe...'_

Her back against his chest.

'_Breathe... breathe... breathe..'_

His lips on her neck.

"I'm old enough to be your mother."

"Did you dream about him at night?"

"I thought you said it didn't matter." She hissed.

He chuckled, "Oh, so you did."

His hands moved down, his fingers curled around her shirt and pulled up. She turned around and slapped him.

He stared at her hand for a moment, and then he held it gently, and he brought it to his lips but he was watching her. "Why don't you admit you want this?" He murmured on her hand, and she shook her head.

"This is wrong."

"I've been wanting this..." His hand on her back, pulling her closer to his chest. She listened but tried to shrug back as he played with the clasp of her bra, "Since the first time you said that."

"What?" She made a face, but he could see clearly. She remembered it as vividly as he did.

"You know, the time I kissed you in the hallway. Like this..." She expected it to be harsh. She expected it to be insensitive and uncaring and selfish, but not in a way she could love the way that Bejiita's kiss was. But it wasn't. It was exactly as it had been years before, he just brushed his lips on hers, barely, and she felt her eyes roll back when he moved closer and held her chin.

But his other hand was lively, moving to her pants, pulling at the button the zipper before he pulled his lips from hers, and he smiled an annoying, _I-told-you-so _smile and she flushed but she couldn't catch her breath.

His hands moved to her hips, and so did her pants, and lower, and lower, and he helped her step out of them. She shook her head, made the occasional moan of protest, but he was kissing her inner-thighs.

"Tell me," He whispered, "Did you think about it too?"

"You have no idea how many dreams I've had." She admitted, but instantly regretted it. "I mean-"

Gohan smiled. He was still crouched on the floor, and he pulled at her legs until she turned around for him.

He had her move to sit on him and he kissed her back, and her neck, and his hands, ever busy, moved to follow down her thighs, and then down her legs until they rested on the floor, but she was far too close to the floor to step out of them.

He rested his chin on her neck, pressing up on her hips so he was able to move his own pants down, and slowly, he pulled her back against him.

It felt odd in a wonderful way. He was dressed and she was naked, that sensation in itself was a new experience, his lips on her ear, on her neck, and he moved, deep within her sex, her back against his chest, and it was euphoria.

Then, it ended, and he collected her in his arms and set her on her bed, and he held her in his own way that said both _'You are mine' _and '_You are cherished.' _

Too tired to protest even if she cared about that at that point, Buruma closed her eyes and fell into a deep, somewhat peaceful sleep.

Of course, that peace went to Hell when she woke up.

* * *

Okay. Sorry it took so long for one. I will go deeper into this whole ruling the world bit next chapter. On another note, I know it's note exactly a lemon but I'm tired, give me a break. I figured you preferred an update with a crappy lime than no update for another three months because I didn't feel up to writing a lemon.

**New Note:** **I know most of my readers probably don't write, so maybe they don't understand the concept that someone sat down and took the time to write this. Writing Worthy's chapter 15 in one sitting took two hours. Feedback is all I ask for in return for presenting this fic to you, and yet I look at my hits, knowing that it's not completely accurate and some people may be re-reading and there are a million reasons why someone needed to get away from the page and came back, but 147 hits to 31 reviews is ridiculous. I am almost hurt at how inconsiderate people can be. I am not begging you to review, however, I am saying that I spent the time writing it, so please spend the two minutes typing an opinion of it so I can get better and update more quickly. **

**Reviewer's Corner:**

**Kyrene: **Trunks really doesn't play a huge roll in this portion of the fic. The Gokou part just sorta popped into my head and it fit.

**Vegito22: **I'm glad, morons that don't know the Japanese names from the butchered English ones don't deserve to read my fics.

**HeWhoWalksTheEarth: **In adding the yaoi, I knew I would be losing a good chunk of my male readers which I am assuming you are, forgive me if I'm wrong. I'm a girl and I didn't much care for yaoi for a while myself, at least not DBZ yaoi. I still can't see much DBZ yaoi and find it rather stupid to have it in there, but here I really did think it suited the fic. Though, on another note, there really won't be much yaoi seeing as Bejii is gone.

**Vegeta Goddess: **Hey! Okay, I cheated everyone on the lemon part. Like I said, crappy lime. Next chappy Buruma's going to throw a fit and Gohan's going to grow sick of this love-hate thing she's doing pretty quickly.

**Marshmellow Dragon: **I certainly hope you enjoyed.

**NinjaKitty: **I am so sorry it took so long.

**Cloud 05: **Well, a lot can happen to you when you think your father's death is your fault. Stupid was a harsh word, but in the end I think I received some sort of compliment, so thank you.

**KitetheKitsune: **Sorry. Only got crappy lime. And it took a few months to get it here. I promise, I'll try and update more often.


	8. Screwed

**Chemicals**

She wasn't really safe. By the time that he got back they would have raided Capsule Corporations. He sighed, what a pity. She would probably rant and rave on about how could he leave this or that behind, but for the current moment all Gohan was concerned with was getting Bururma to a safe area while the Human race still fought for control of its existence.

Some were praying, some were talking of the end of the world, some called it a hoax, some stole what they could, and others were prepared to fight the phantom Master X.

He chuckled a bit, it would be just a little longer before the world would realize-and accept the fact that their new master was barely eighteen.

Though he was a bit surprised that Pikkoro and his crew of idiots hadn't yet called. '_They know it's me. They have to. So right now they're probably training and waiting for me to start using force.' _

He sighed again. Before he'd been slightly upset that he couldn't add his mother to his list of people that should they be harmed in any way, they would face his wrath. It would've been too obvious, and Pikkoro would've...

He looked at Buruma in his arms and slight panic washed over him. Pikkoro wouldn't hurt the wife of Son Gokou, but he _would _hide the mother of Son Gohan.

* * *

ChiChi sighed, closing her eyes. She leaned against the table and just the feel of her forehead against the cold was a very brief comfort. 

"Momma?"

"What's wrong, Goten?" She instantly sat up. Her figure hadn't changed. She was still a short, slender figure with ample breasts and a pretty face, however her hair hadn't been done since the news spoke of this Master X character and her eyes looked tired and worried.

"Why do you look so bad? Huh?" His childish voice, the innocence in his tone and the lack of vocabulary to even express his worry for his mother in words was balanced by the emotion in his eyes and she couldn't help but look away for a second to think of her lost husband.

ChiChi pulled her son into her lap and patted him a bit, "Nothing, really."

"You're thinking about Gohan, aren'cha?" The boy asked.

"How did you know that?"

"You always look bad like that when you're thinking about Gohan, but today it's worse."

She laughed a bit at his honesty. "Yes, I'm thinking about him. I'm just worried. I hope he's safe. I hope he's okay. Now, go play for a little while before we start your lessons."

The child practically leaped off her lap and in a flash he returned with a ball in hand. "Can I play with my new red ball outside today? Huh? Can I, Momma?"

He was so excited, he spoke in stutters of joy, but somehow she managed to understand from the way he couldn't choose between looking at the shiny ball and looking at her. She was about to agree when she looked back to the television and sighed, "Why don't you wait? There's something going on that adults need to pay attention to and I think you should stay inside."

She turned around to return to the news that doubtlessly was releasing useless, repeated information anyway.

And then she heard the sound of a ball falling to the ground. It bounced twice, and then Goten let out a bit of a while and she instantly stood.

"Pikkoro!" She hissed, "I told you not to come here again."

"Send the boy away, ChiChi, I have an important matter to discuss with you."

"Is it about Gohan and this Master X? Is he fighting him? Tell me, is my boy safe?"

Pikkoro frowned at her teary eyes, "This is a private matter and I'd like to speak with you alone."

"I won't let my Goten out of sight!"

"And you shouldn't. Not with _him _around. He may just try to steal another one of your sons, Mother." His voice was soft and quiet and he stepped through, managed a forced look of affection that he threw at Goten, and set Buruma, still dead asleep, on the couch.

"ChiChi, don't listen to his lies!" Pikkoro cried, but it was too late.

"Oh, Gohan!" As if Pikkoro wasn't even there, his mother lunged at him, throwing her arms around his neck. At that point, he was much taller than she was and he looked down at her, smiling gently.

"What is it, Mother?"

She sighed, holding him to her as tightly as she could, "I was just so worried about you."

"The door was opened and I figured someone tried to break in. Forgive me for not waiting for an invitation to protect you." His eyes met Pikkoro's and slowly, he moved ChiChi's arms away. "Now, I want you to take Goten and Buruma to your room and why don't you guys rest for a little while. I'll take care of this, but I have to get to school. As it is, I'll probably be pretty late."

"No, Gohan, come back and-"

"Mother, I have to make sure that no one gets hurt. You've seen the news, you know it's rioting out there. The world is in a panic. I promise, I'll be back in a few hours."

Gohan followed Pikkoro out of the little cottage. "Back when you lived there, you were an entirely different person, Gohan."

"Bittersweet memories." The young man shrugged, "They don't do much for the future and they only keep you back in the present."

"Leave ChiChi alone. You'll only hurt your mother more when she finds out you're not the boy she raised."

"No, Pikkoro. Why don't you leave my family alone?"

"Should I call you Master X now?"

Gohan laughed, "I figured something with a stupid title like that would be fitting for the end of a stupid society's freedom. _I _thought it was funny."

"Gohan, do you honestly think that following Bejiita's orders is going to change the fact that Son Gokou is your father?"

"Maybe it will." He shrugged a bit, "Son Gokou is just a man, and Bejiita is a great prince. He is so much more than just a father."

"If that is the course you take, then I have no choice other than to de-" Pikkoro choked as he felt Gohan's fist sink into his gut. The boy took in a little power, and as Pikkoro lurched over, he sent a powerful kick to his head. Pikkoro, panting, tried to grab it, but it soared surely and made impact against the Namekian's skull.

Gohan grabbed his former mentor by the arm. He was out cold, and the boy needed to find a place for him. He would wake up, and he would try to spoil his plans.

* * *

"Son Gohan. I'm surprised to see you here. You're late." 

Gohan sighed, aggravated, "If you didn't notice, the world as you know it is ending and you expect me to be on time to class?"

His teacher raised a brow, "Yes, I do, and I expect you to be in here for detention this afternoon."

Gohan shrugged and turned to be seated. Videl cocked a brow, "Is the news getting to you? Don't worry, Gohan. My dad'll take care of it. I promise."

The words that were meant to inspire hope only inspired aggravation, "I'm sure." He said, forcing her hand off his shoulder. He sighed, tapping his pen against his dirty, ink-stained desk.

"What the Hell is wrong with you? I'm just trying to help, Gohan! If you're going to act like this, you can just find another date for the dance."

Gohan closed his eyes and stood up. "I don't want you. I don't find you attractive. You are nothing special to me, nothing but a creature to have sex with when there's nothing else to do. Your very voice causes such excruciating pain that I could swear it's amazing that even you haven't noticed how I flinch every time you open your mouth. You are useless; all of you are, for that matter, and you should be begging for forgiveness, on your knees, at my feet, that I should let you live."

"What are you talking about..." Videl ventured to ask, as he supposed she would.

He smiled at her. A sick maniac smile, "I suppose I should introduce myself. I'm your new world leader." And before they could laugh, his hand would glow with a curious sort of energy and the terror in their hearts told them that what he said was true.

* * *

"How did he do it? I don't understand." 

"Capsule Corporation technology is in nearly every electronic device. A secret chip was rumored to have been placed in everything Capsule Corporation ever manufactured or helped in any way. It's kind of like their fingerprints."

"But... everything from military weapons to toasters... Capsule Corporations has had a hand in making."

"Doctor Briefs created the chip to ultimately prevent technology from enslaving the Human race. As bots become more intelligent, more aware of themselves, they see they are superior and they want the world. It cannot be traced. Even if you smashed the item, the chip is so small that it's likely that if triggered, it could still cause a small explosion."

"So Master X is holding the world as a hostage."

"Basically, Sir. He can control everything from what I understand."

"Do you think he's bluffing? This chip, it's only a rumor, right? No one, not even Briefs, has any documented proof that this exists."

"I don't know, Sir..."

The two gentlemen turned around to face their computers. A third was sitting at the desk, typing rapidly with sweat rolling down his cheeks, "It's not working!"

The computer went blank, and then after a few seconds, the screen turned on again, reading:

**Master X controls you.**

**He is the new world leader.**

**Bow down to him, obey, and you will live in prosperity. **

**Resist and die without mercy.**

A fourth man ran into the room. "He's been identified! Master X has been identified and he's going to attack!"

"What! What happened?"

"He's saying his patience is being tried by our defiance. If we don't all give into him now..."

The man at the desk closed his eyes and folded his hands together, "Oh, God..."

"There's another thing, Sir." The man at the doorway said, looking at the piece of paper in his hands. He frowned at the information, re-read it, adjusted his glasses, and read it again.

"What is it?"

"This Master X... He's a kid. He's this eighteen year old brat from West City."

"So what do we do? Buy him porn and hope he'll stop?"

"There's... nothing we can do, Sir. He controls 98 percent of the world's technology. What he doesn't control, he's proved he can hack. He has weapons pointed at the areas he cannot control through technology..."

"So you mean..."

"We've lost with no choice but to obey the boy that took over the world in eight hours."

"What's his name?"

"Does it really even matter?" Asked the tearing man at the desk.

"I just want to know."

"It says here that his name is Son Gohan. He's lived with the heiress to Capsule Corporation for five years, but it doesn't say why."

He looked at the computer and then out the window, "The Human race has never been known to take something like this lying down. Is there any hope?"

"Honestly Sir, from the looks of it right now? No. We don't have enough information on this chip to know how to disable it, somehow he always knows when, where, and what we're actually looking for the chip with and it ends up blowing up as soon as we take it apart. The entire Briefs family cannot be found. We can't seem to find Son's family either, and at any rate even if we knew where they were we couldn't touch them. We're completely and utterly screwed, Sir."

* * *

Tee hee... I liked how I ended it. They're... so optimistic, aren't they? 

**Reviewer's Corner:**

**Ashley: I'm glad you liked it!**

**HeWhoWalksTheEarth: I hope you like this one too.**

**Kyrene: YAY! I've updated! I feel so much better. **


	9. Attempts

Chemicals

"Before," He started with a sigh, "we fought each other. Now we need to make this menace understand that there is one of him, and if we must destroy his ammunition, our technology, in order to preserve our freedom, then we will. He is attempting to become a tyrant, and I am asking you now: Do not let him. Don't you let him, Ladies and Gentlemen. We need to act as a unit. He is a teenager holding the world hostage, and this troubled young man..."

He was a pleasant looking, a handsome and thoughtful sort of face. He was very pale, and there was something mysterious about his eyes: they were black. It was as if he could control the amount of light that the beautiful sort of obsidian soaked in.

He was sitting, smiling at his lap with his chin tilted towards his chest and one leg crossed casually over the other. He seemed to be in a state of chaotic peace almost, with his arms crossed over his chest and his almost professional-bad guy outfit.

He was... absolutely enchanting. The man delivering the speech stopped so abruptly, so stumped by this young man sitting in the crowd, snickering and sneering politely, that the rest stared at him.

"If you don't mind..." His voice was very, very soft.They had to hush to hear him, and he was so very... captivating that they _wanted _to hear him. It was a morbid fascination as the man with the wine-colored shirt, crisp and neatly tucked under black slacks and a tailored jacket stood to speak.

It was almost as if this had been rehearsed, this young man with his thick, spiked hair and a single ear pierced, that seemed so composed and yet soft-spoken, allowed the man giving the speech to step down. "I know," He laughed, "You want to assassinate me. But you should be a little more grateful that I haven't killed you yet. I _know _everything. Please don't ever think I don't. You know, you should give me a chance, and please Sir, don't even bother try to shoot me with that because all it'll do is blow your fucking hand off."

The officer in the sea of men immediately dropped his weapon. It was apparent that he was shaking.

"What was I saying? Oh yes," He smiled, a gentle little laugh, a pleasant sinister-that was what this young man was, a contradiction. He was something wonderful and terrible in the most splendid way possible and they feared him and behind the fear there was anger because his manner was so enigmatic, so unique and striking, that they had to respect him. "You know, you may like it."

It was as if he were asking a young lady to have sex with him. He was seducing them, reeling them in, and as unconvinced and indignant as the rebels were, they could not move. "I won't restrict your freedoms. Or at least not yet. I love Earth. Very much, it's a nice little planet, now isn't it? _You _obviously don't. You don't take care of yourselves, you're constantly trying to kill each other. And do they not say that it is the dictator that gives his rights up the second he establishes his power? For the rest of my life, I have to watch what I do, because, please do not interrupt me, Madame, and I must say that your oldest sonthat is standing behind me should not try to attack me with that knife because if he does I will be forced to kill you both."

"See, all you people do is resort to violence." To indicate his annoyance, the young man slammed his hand on the podium, "You couldn't walk up to me ans ask me, 'Please don't take over my planet,' now could you? That's about three hundred and sixteen failed assassination attempts, and if I have to I'll just start killing you all. Well, feel free, but I have my own dreams and you don't need to be a part of my Utopia. There will be the rich, the richer, and my court. How do I do this, you ask? There cannot be the rich without the poor. There can if we collaborate. If we are a, as our former leader put it, unit, and we join the universal trading route,then we can easily put an end to hunger and the homeless."

The young man sneered, "Of course you're quiet now. Of course you put your guns down now. You're too simple to possibly understand the concept that we are very, very far from being alone, and once I re-introduce Earth to the universe, and to our riches, and our greatness, and they expose us to their technologies and medicines, then we can very easily become a great and powerful empire." He sighed and leaned back on himself, "And all you have to do is be good in the little rat race and do as I say." His voice was quieter than ever, a sort of sensual murmur. They all leaned in, the angry, the skeptics, the scared, the tired, the reluctant, the interestedand stupid that heard his critique of the way that life was andsuddenly understood how bad it was as compared to this idea.

"I am your new world leader. Like it or not. I really don't care. Your rebellion, your threats against my family and allies, can and will be crushed. I know everything. You want to hide out in the forests, think I don't hear you? Oh, I hear. I see. I know all, and I can name names. Do you want to be tortured? Do you want to die miserably? Continue to protest. Continue to be weak and just try to hurt my family. And of course if you chose to be loyal to me, and you want to hear more of the golden times I have planned ahead for you... then I suppose it'd be a good time to show it now. And if you pledge loyalty to me, and it isn't sincere..." All he did was smile.

* * *

"You're beautiful..." He sighed into her neck, his lips running over and back again, and he did not pull back until her hands forced him to.

She sighed, "You can't do this. You just..."

"But I did." He smiled at her, "I am going to do great things."

"Did Bejiita tell you that?"

He laughed a little, sliding his hand around her, "No. Bejiita doesn't care if I rule this planet with an iron fist and lead them to the ground. In fact I quite agree with him that they probably need it.." Her frown changed his tone, "But you see, it doesn't have to be that way."

"You don't seem to understand that we're not talking about something. You're not getting the gravity of this.."

"Gravity is only a theory." He smiled at her, playing with her hair, sending tickles across her neck and she shook her head.

"I can never support this, Gohan. Stop now."

He sighed, "You know that I can't turn back."

"You can always turn back." Her eyes were hopeful, "Just stop this. I'm sorry, I should have never let you.." She sighed, "You poor little boy."

"I love you..." He whined, staring at her with black black eyes and when he tilted in to kiss her she kissed back, a soft gasp of pleasure, and her hands slid up his back as he bent over her.

And then he was laughing, "Buruma. I adore you, but please don't be so silly. This won't ever stop."

Embarrassed and angry, she yelled, "I won't stay! I'll leave-"

"And they'll kill you."

"I don't care!" And she was struggling in his arms like a child, and he was holding her calmly with little effort.

He sighed, "If I have to _make _you calm down, I will. Now, let me give you some options. You don't have to like me, but I know you do. You don't have to be attracted to me, but I know you are. You don't have to enjoy it, but I promise you, you will. From now on you control your place in this society. You can be a goddess, a queen, you can be my companion, or if you want to, you can just be my whore. You can leave, but I'll find you. You can run to Pikkoro, but do you honestly think he'll protect you? Yamucha? Kuririn? Dirty old man Roshi? As far as they know, you're Bejiita's little spy."

"And what if I am theirs?"

Gohan smiled again, releasing her as she had finally stopped trying to hit him wildly, "Always a possibility, but I promise you, that is a very bad idea."

"I can do whatever I want. You wouldn't hurt me."

His eyes flashed and in a second, he was on top of her, her breathing so stressed that their chests touched every few moments, "Don't be so sure of that. I would never physically hurt you, but I can always of course tell Bejiita that Torankusu would be better off without seeing his darling mother, or I could kill your parents or I could just flat out get angry and make society pay for it."

She crossed her arms over her chest defiantly, sliding herself back and out from under him, "What do I care? That's not hurting me."

His lips curled and he trailed a finger over her jawline, "I would love you so much more if you were really that selfish." And he stood, "But I have a lot of lot of work to do, Darling, and I must make sure my mother is safe. So please, keep in mind everything we've talked about. I could make you their goddess..."

She sighed and sat there as he left. She knew that there was no choice: She was going to have to outsmart him and end this as it was starting. This was her fault, she could feel it in her gut, and she would fix it. And if she couldn't use her own intelligence against him... then she would have to find a way to contact the one person that could.

* * *

Would you rather an update or an author's note? I promise I'll make it next chapter. The basic thing here is see, I don't have time to go over and make review notes. I've got a lot of fics to update and whatnot and then I need to go rest up. Tests and essays and fun junk and such.

So you see, my rule is a simple one: If I am happy with my reviews, I'll update within the next two days. If I'm not and I have time, I'll try to update another fic or no updates at all. I don't have the time or energy to do this any other way.


	10. Transition

**Chemicals**

SonGokouSonGokouSonGokouSonGokou.

Once the savior's gone, what's it good for? The world, oh, it was his. His, right? His his. All the pretty little world, his his, Buruma, his his, Bejiita, his his, everything was his his his his his.

Son Gokou.

Oh, the name that taunted him, that which one tries so hard to forget, but again it is, and here is is, and again it starts, and the anger and the frustration comes and..

_Don't you just want to kill something? Just hurt something, like he hurt you? _

Some things, they're just so pretty. And other things, they're so damn nice, but you, Gohan, what are you?

SonGokouSonGokouSonGokouSonGokou.

Over powered by a name, by a saint.

He couldn't have it, no, no, animal that he'd become, angry and frustrated. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Sweat. Sweat. Sweat. Anger. Hate. Sex. Sharp object. Toy dolls. Twisted desires. Disturbed thoughts. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Fight. Fight. Fight. Anger.

"...Gohan?"

He tilted his head up to meet her soft blue eyes. He didn't make a sound, he just looked at her. It was awkward. Here, he throwing things wildly about the room, huge as it was, and she was frightened.

"You're bleeding."

He glowered at her, "It's fine."

* * *

Heaven is a beautiful thing.

* * *

Eventually, ChiChi would have to figure it out. She wasn't stupid, she wouldn't let these sorts of things take over her. Her love for her son could not possibly be so great that she not see that the Gohan she knew, she loved, he was more dead than Gokou. 

Pikkoro sighed. He had to try to stop Gohan, no matter what the cost was.

_Are you prepared to die, my friend?_

One of them, by the end of the night, as the world came to its sleepy close, one would be dead.

In the end, Gohan would lose.

Good prevails. Always. Pikkoro sighed. He knew what had to be done, he knew the risks. He'd watched Gohan, his fondness of him seemed to know no bounds. And this new creature, had the body of the boy but not the soul. Even so, it was difficult even for cold, hard Pikkoro to prepare himself for the battle.

Tomorrow, all will be right in the world.

* * *

Bejiita knew what Hell was. Bejiita showed him what fun Hell was.

* * *

He was sitting with Goten in his lap. How he despised the child, and the boy seemed frightened of him as well. Intimidated, silent, Goten with all of his innocence looked at his brother with huge eyes, for he was the closest thing to a father that the young Son had ever known. 

ChiChi closed her eyes, her mind needed time to register the information, and he, her son, was not quiet about it. He looked at her, eager, impatient, "So?" He still so needed her support in an odd way. His loyalty to his mother was intense, and as his eyes blazed in her direction she could see it, _you will forgive me. You will learn to see things my way. _

"Gohan..." And suddenly, she stood, "What the Hell do you think you're doing? Who do you think you are? You can't just--" ChiChi's mind was racing. And she knew that in her own way, she'd helped cause the damage. She loved her son so, he was her baby still, and while she was angered and frustrated and confused, a mother's heart could tell that her son was in dire need of love and care to wash out whatever the dark prince had put in him.

"Oh, mother, I can, and I have." His voice was quiet. He was quite proud of himself, but his tone was not arrogant or cocky. This was not the way he spoke to Buruma, it was not even matter-of-fact. Whatever it was, she could see that he was very far away, mentally sheilding himself, and inside ChiChi felt sympathy for him rush over her. The boy was a product of something terrible that had been presented to him.

"This isn't, this can't be, your fa-" But the look on his face, sharp and evil, made her cut her words short. The woman stared at her son with awe, some fear even. Her youngest son shifted uncomfortably in his brother's lap, trying to make sense of the conversation in his childish mind.

Gohan did not have to raise his voice to silence her. It was no secret that the mention of his father always got a reaction. It was his weakness, but even when his prince tried to cure him of it, no good came. Son Gokou would always haunt him.

"He would have never wanted this to happen." She softly said, taking a step forward. _Reason, Gohan. Please. _

"_He _is dead." Gohan shrugged. He tried to control his emotions, but he seemed cross, sharper, not as smug in his seat. _My father. What a joke. _

ChiChi stood, sour, "Did Bejiita do this to you? Was Pikkoro really right..?" She was unwilling to believe he was evil. She was unwilling to believe any of this. But there he was, he said it plain, clear. The world is mine. Simple. Casual. Table talk.

He's crazy.

"Did you ever just think, maybe this was all just my idea? Think of the things I could do for the world. Look at the productivity. Human beings, they are not capable of thinking for themselves, they need someone to push them along in the right direction, like cattle and dogs and--"

"Me?" ChiChi stared, hurt. Dazed. _He sounds like Bejiita..._

"Oh, mother, no, no, I mean the norm. You, you and Buruma, you're fine. But I'm going to do great things, what with the whales and the poverty and the starving children and the third world countries. Really now, technology was everyone's god before anyway. Why can't I be a god, mother? I think I deserve to be one." He was poking at his little brother now.

Against his will, Goten laughed, and the little boy let go of his curiousity. The conversation left his thoughts as quickly as they'd come, and he was now engaged in dealing with his brother's tickling him with one hand.

ChiChi shook her head, "You cannot do this!"

"Why not?" He looked at her.

"This is wrong."

"You know, you're saying things over and over again but you're not really saying anything, mother. Think about it, honestly. Corrupt politicians are taking money from the government, now I am the government and there are no corrupt politicians. It would be in my best interest to take care of the world and its people because it's mine. No one's being hurt or abused or tortured. This isn't the typical dictatorship. I'm not paranoid, and for the moment I have no reason to be cruel. So what does it matter, if in return for a few basic rights they have stability and a place to sleep at night?"

And so they went on, and she storms out, and Goten sits next to his brother, and Gohan despises him because he looks so much like the man that can no longer be mentioned, but he is kind to him, and he smiles, because he knows he won, he knows in the end, he is all she has, and she will come back to him no matter how she disagrees with what he has done.

* * *

Far more productive than Heaven. Far better than being good.

* * *

Eh, more later. Review? 


	11. Needy

**Chemicals**

It had been way too long. A part of him warmed, smiled, he didn't know whether to get on a knee and bow to the man before him or open his arms and embrace him. Still, he was weak and he was awkward and ashamed and embarrassed and his very presence was **intoxicating. **

_Strength. _The relationship that they had was all about strength. It was power games and humiliation and anger and frustration and rage. And in his own way, Gohan was quite sure that this was Vegeta's way of ultimately insulting the man that was once his father. But it destroyed him on so many levels to think that Son Gokou could be at the bottom of the complex relationship between a man that was still a boy and a monster that was in fact a man.

_You made a promise to me and you lied._

That is what Gohan's eyes were screaming at Vegeta. But the Saiya-Jin, the prince and his prince and his master in so many ways just stood there. Gohan's alien side took in his scent, and he was quite angry.

_It was very late at night. The sky was black. Black like Vegeta's soul. Everything was Vegeta. The sky and the sun and the metal and the pain, it was all VegetaVegetaVegeta. And Gohan knew, he knew after only a few moments from the first encounter that the prince was still evil, and the Z warriors were quite stupid to think that they could trust him. Even Buruma, Bulma, the beautiful minx with cerulean eyes and hair could not foresee this. And he knew that she too had figured that he could be tamed. _

_But it was obvious that that was not the situation. The training began abruptly after he moved in. The dark prince gave him a curious, malicious look, "You cut your hair." _

_Gohan nodded, the long, shaggy locks had indeed been chopped away ruthlessly, and his Saiya-Jin side must have taken over because instead of falling flat, they formed jagged spikes. His eyes, they seemed tired. Haunted. He wasn't eating. Vegeta didn't care._

_"You are weak."_

_"I'm not weak!" _

_"Prove it!" The voice taunted. Vegeta's voice was something between raspy and rich. It always twisted him like a knife to his gut. It was hit that one delicate area. That one thing that no one mention, the thing that tortured the young boy night and day night and day, Vegeta would always bring up. "How do you think Kakarotto would feel if he saw you like this?"_

_Gohan turned pale, a white sheet. He swallowed hard, his voice was hoarse and it was late, "That's not fair!" The voice was a bit of a whine, but there was a forceful characteristic to it, it was angry and bitter. _

_The sparring began. And it started as it always would. They both wore form-fitting suits. But after a blast, the material, something between spandex and a specially formulated material that Bulma had created no doubt, was singed. Gohan could see the flesh, the scarred, rough, tanned skin that belonged to the Saiya-Jin prince. As if lit on fire, the boy demanded more, he lunged out at Vegeta, punching and kicking, bit by bit. And it was not so much about seeing Vegeta without clothes on as seeing that skin with marks on it. Gohan swallowed. Oh, he wanted so much to cause Vegeta pain. Not mentally, and he knew the prince was beyond emotional pain, but to leave a scar and let Vegeta call it his favorite---that was Gohan's ultimate goal. A twisted ambition, a desire that lead him to be an obsessive wretch. _

_Whether or not Vegeta knew that the plan was to scratch into as much flesh as possible, Gohan never knew. But for some reason that had never been explained, Vegeta was aware of the thick sexual tension that the boy felt. The feeling was not mutual. Gohan's apparent bisexuality, the prince figured, was a true result of his mental instability. But he used it to his advantage, because he was young, because he considered anything physical to go hand-in-hand with his mind and his emotions, and Vegeta was always in control. _

_Almost._

_Sweat droplets formulated on his forehead. Vegeta responded to the assault, Gohan countered. It was rhythmic. Poetic, even. But a ki blast that actually burnt into the flesh so that Gohan had finally drawn blood sent the young Saiya-Jin to the edge. With fire and hurt and confusion and panicpanicpanic in his eyes, Gohan launched himself once again at the prince. But this time, Vegeta was caught off guard, and though not frightened, the speed and accuracy and power that Gohan had unleashed allowed for him to land many critical, devastating blows._

_The power loaned itself to his lust. The older could not fight back. The taunting and the pickingpickingpicking at that delicate spot in his mind, the fact that Vegeta always had to bring Gokou up, all and all it just came out and he needed **blood. **Blood, oh he needed more of that liquid fire, it made Vegeta look so eloquent, a true prince, and in fact it was so amazing that Gohan licked his lips, that violent, blazing fire still apparent in his eyes as he attacked and attacked the man who became his father and his obsession and his master and the object of his lust and the object of his desire and the source of his anger and the source of his frustration and the one that brought him all that he needed and so much more."**I loved you**!" Gohan was muttering, the sentences were ramble, meaningless as far as Vegeta was concerned. But for weeks, Vegeta was all that the boy knew. He did indeed live and breathe in the hopes that the man would notice him, pay attention to him, to impress and to please, and the servile, awkward Gohan was gone in an instant. And now he was batting at , shoving and pushing Vegeta. He forced the older man into the wall. It made a dent. Vegeta spat blood at him. Excited the boy more._

_He would grind his lips against his prince's. It could not be called a kiss. "And now I'm your slave and I'm your whore and you know," He hissed through his teeth, straight on Vegeta's skin, so close to the prince, and he was numb because it was nothing short of an absolute phenomenon, there was some incredibly fantastical aspect of absolute power and composure even with the prince in his state, "you know I would do anything for you."_

_"You used me!" He hissed, and now his throat was thick, and he felt as though he was about to cry, and then he was crying, "And oh god--oh, god, oh, god," His tears mixed with the blood on Vegeta's shoulder that he was now lapping up like a sad puppy, "I want you to, I really do.. What's happened to me? What have you done? I'm so scared... I'm so confused..." And he was shaking and shivering and unsure if Vegeta was listening to him or not._

_And then he absolutely needed Vegeta's attention, needed him to acknowledge this and not fade out to that dark part of his genius mind and ignore this, because this was the moment, this was him spilling his insane little heart out and he needed Vegeta to **hear **him. For his lack of attention, Gohan sank his teeth into the man's neck. He drew blood. It tasted exquisite. He was feverish. Vegeta let out a howl, either in surprise or pain or both, or perhaps the man was stoic and Gohan in his sadistic, crazed moment imagined it all. It was irrelevant, because this was his moment, and this was about him._

_"**Listen to me, damn it!" **He sobbed, throwing a fist into the metal just centimeters short of Vegeta's skull, quite on purpose, leaving a lovely dent. And then he rested his arms on the older man's shoulders. And he let his hands run over his body and Gohan lowered himself. He sank to his knees, slowly, kneeling before Vegeta, "But you speak of Son Gokou. And you call me these names, and you say these terrible things when all I want to do is make you more and to give you everything." He held his arms out wide in front of him, taking in the scent of Vegeta's sweat and blood. It were as though the Saiya-Jin prince was a god, and Gohan was worshipping him. He rested his forehead against Vegeta's leg, giving his prince ample time to kick him back._

_And then Gohan was laying, half naked on the floor of the gravity chamber, and Vegeta was on top of him. A little bit of blood trickled down from the wound onto Gohan's skin, and the young boy's eyes were now wide with fear because he was -nolongerincontrolnolongerincontrol- and there was something much worse than a smirk on his face. Vegeta, mad with fury, that belligerent anger and a hurt pride, pressed himself to the squirming boy below him._

_"You are a whore," He hissed, his words were vicious, Gohan closed his eyes, and Vegeta in retribution bit down against Gohan's collar bone, reestablishing his superiority. The pale boy squealed in terror and pain and ecstasy because he also needed Vegeta to be dominant. "You want me to," He grunted, "Fuck you, right here..." Vegeta trailed off, and it didn't matter because neither cared what he was saying. He was raving, doing anything he could to hurt and tease the boy beneath him all at once. Enforcing his masculinity. Something so very sexual about it, deep in the pit of his abdomen, a need for more and more and more pain and more words and more of anything Vegeta would give him._

_Vegeta's hands pressed hard against Gohan's chest as he straddled him, and the boy whimpered, and then Vegeta's face was very, very close, and he breathed in all of his fury, "And if you ever, ever touch me again," but they both knew what 'touch' meant, "I will kill you. I will not hesitate."_

_And then Vegeta was up, and he barked, "Get out. Now!"_

_Gohan lingered for a few seconds, looking pathetic and broken at the man. He tried to stumble over words and apologies, but to no avail. The sight was almost tragic. The sadness seemed so crisp._

_"**Out!"**_

* * *

Pikkoro did not know what exactly he could have done to make the situation better. He did indeed know that there was only two people in this world that could really, truly control Son Gohan: Bejiita, evil, sadistic... and Gokou. 

The Namek closed his eyes, frustrated. Gokou did not respond from Heaven. He feared there was no way to resurrect him. He'd tried to break into Gohan's headquarters while it was still being set up, still being pulled together as the young man could make things up, but it was true that Gohan was stronger than he was. The boy always left him to live. Always left him to live.

Pikkoro turned to Dende, "What are we to do?"

He crossed his arms over his chest, "It's apparent that we need to reach Gokou somehow, some way."

"He won't come. You know that, and there's no way to tell him that Gohan won't take care of it because he is the root of the problem..." He sighed in irritation, "He should still be more accessible..."

Dende understood the warrior's bitterness, but trying to be even, he claimed, "You know that Gokou really just wants us to take care of things on our own."

"But this is personal."

"It's so uncharacteristic of you to not be trying to find any other way to stop them." Dende observed.

Struck, Pikkoro snapped, "You know full well that under these circumstances, it's not strength or luck that we need. Gokou so represents much to Gohan on a psychological level."

There was a soft sigh, and Dende swallowed, "I'm afraid too. I just wish that there were another way. It feels so useless trying to brood over Gokou's absence because it's so clear that this time we're going to have to go at it without--"

Someone cleared his throat, and the two looked to see an awkward Popo. He waved a bit, but stated, "I think there might be a way... It will not be easy, it will not be fast, but I think there may be just one shot that we have at resurrecting Gokou."

* * *

Gohan was quite surprised that Vegeta had come back. While he'd told Buruma one month, he knew it was a lie. And when Bulma saw him, standing there without her son, she glowered, "Where is he!?" 

Vegeta scowled at the woman, "He's training."

"I thought you told me he would bring him back!" She shrieked in Gohan's direction, and it was true that Bulma thought of little other than her young son as the days passed. She avoided ChiChi, although Chi too was in her own way a captive of the base, "When will I see my son, Vegeta?!"

"I do not have time to be listening to your petty demands." His voice was sharp. Cold. They glared fireballs at each other, but Gohan stood there quite certain that should Vegeta stay the night, Bulma would be sharing his bed.

"And furthermore," she took a daring step towards the father of her child, "Vegeta, exactly what is going on with you two?" She made a bitter gesture in Gohan's direction. And then she scoffed a bit, "You can't be serious. Please, tell me you're not going to try to do what you're doing."

"Onna," He roughly responded, "You have no--"

"He's my son, you maniac!"

"I came here to speak with the brat and I do not need you barging in here, asking about things that do not concern--"

"Concern me? It's my planet, Vegeta! You're absolutely insane if you think that Gokou's going to let you--"

But that was the magic name, and both stopped the argument as Gohan twitched, "Bulma, I need to talk to Vegeta. Alone. Now."

"No!" She hissed, "I am not just going to let you do this! This is our planet, Gohan! Please, reason! What do you think you're doing, you don't even have the right to--"

"Go." And Vegeta gave the final word on the topic. Nearly hysterical, Bulma left.

"You've been gone for way too long," He said softly. Vegeta fought the urge to roll his eyes. The boy was still very needy, clingy, and it was irritating. He'd hoped that bedding the woman combined with his absence would work together to give him a more independent outlook, but it seemed to have served the same sort of purpose as giving a child candy before bedtime, just to have the child running around madly on sugar-high. "When are you leaving?"

"Tonight."

"You're not even staying?"

"What is this, boy," Vegeta snarled, "A dinner party?!"

Gohan sighed, "What did you want to discuss?"

Vegeta finally was able to begin, "I will be tending to things and training the boy at the base that I was trained at for the next several years," Gohan felt his stomach and heart lurch, "while I apparently will have to bring the boy to keep the harping woman sane from time to time, it is your responsibility to make sure that by the time everything is ready, this damned planet is prepared to be merged into my empire. It's really a quite simple task."

"Yes, but you've told me this before, so why did you.." Gohan trailed off.

"Return?" Vegeta smirked, but his face then turned into a sharp, stern glare, "Listen to me, boy. I will not have you going weak on me. You will be prepared in every way to handle anything that those fools throw at you until I tell you it's time to kill them."

Arrogant laughter, "But... They can't throw anything at me that even warrants this sort of--"

"_Anyone."_

Gohan got quiet, "They're going to try?"

The prince nodded, "It's the only thing they have left and you have to be ready for it. One day, it will happen. He will come back."

"That's impossible."

"It won't be soon, and it is your responsibility to make sure that when it does happen, it will be too late." Vegeta could not allow his precious work to be destroyed by his arch-rival. His convenient, tragic death opened so many new windows...

"I'll be stronger if you train me." Gohan pleaded with his eyes, "Why can't you stay? What is so important about being away?"

"It's more about him, he needs to be away from _her. _She is making him weak."

Gohan's eyes narrowed, "Is she making you weak?" And it was the first time he'd spoken in such a way to the man that he admired so. He was not sure if it was jealousy, jealousy over Vegeta's apparent relationship with Bulma, or if it was the fact that Trunks seemed to play such a huge role in Vegeta's plan whereas his seemed to be more miniscule by the second.

Vegeta glared at the young man, taking a dangerous step forward, "Me?" And then he scoffed, "I need the boy isolated."

"How is he so important, how could he possibly accomplish anything that I could not do for you--" Gohan started, deciding to pick the less confusing of the two options. He could not be jealous of Vegeta or resent Vegeta, but he did. He resented and hated Vegeta and at the same time he felt the exact opposite. Vegeta always confused him so that he decided it best to not attempt to sort of his feelings towards the Saiya-Jin prince at all. All that he did know was that there was a very clear, very strong loyalty to his prince and yet he felt nothing other than irritation towards the boy Trunks.

"You insolent child..."

"Prince...Prince Bejiita... I want...need you to train me. Don't forsake me." And Gohan fell to his knees, "You are all I have."

Vegeta was aware of the predicament that he was in, but he seemed calm, thoughtful almost, as he reviewed his situation. It was a very dangerous thing, to make Gohan feel "abandoned" due to the fact that the boy was clearly so emotionally fucked up by his father's death. He was unwilling to sweet talk the boy, he could make his voice gentle and coo and lie to the woman, but he absolutely would not coddle him, "So consider this your training. You are so dependent it's sickening. You've come of age, be a man."

As if stricken, Gohan's eyes widened, "But how will I become stronger physically?"

"The same way you did before. Just train. The Gravity Chamber-"

"...Will you at least stay with me to train me tonight?"

"No."

His words hit Gohan, hard. Ruthless. Angry. Irritated. Gohan was quite disgusted at his own weakness and apparent need of Vegeta's attention. Nevertheless, after Vegeta spoke privately to Bulma, he returned and decided that he would after all like another chance to pummel the boy.

* * *

For the second time ever, the sex was rough, but Gohan begged. And Vegeta insulted him in the middle of it, but he knew regardless that leaving Gohan with the memory to remind him of his loyalties, not before sinking his teeth deep into the side of Gohan's shoulder. He yelled out in pain, but it was the most beautiful sort of pleasure that could ever exist.

* * *

Nanana? 


	12. Insurance

**Chemicals**

_"Without the power of the Makyo world, there's no way he could possibly revive himself. He really was an idiot."_

_"Pikkoro-san, even without father around, we won, huh?"_

_"Against an opponent the likes of Garlic Junior, we do not his power."_

_"B-but..."_

_"Ordinarily, you would have been a match for him by yourself."_

_"Forgive me.. I will keep training."_

_"We needed your father very much, kid. And he was here the whole time."_

_"Are you sure?"_

_"He was here inside of you."_

_Something of a whisper, just for him to hear, "You have done well... Gohan." And when he'd fainted, thought that no one else could hear him, "Sleep well. You have done well, and I am proud of you. "_

* * *

Gohan swallowed when he looked in the eyes of his master and his prince. In his mind, he'd figured that some way he could flirt or somehow charm the prince the way he was so very capable of others. But when it came to Bejiita he was a teenage boy, unsure of himself, desiring protection, love, attention.. The young man waited, timid. When his prince had announced over dinner that he would indeed be staying, he was elated. But not the time was growing nearer and he was pacing, a part of him almost felt slutty as he waited and fantasised. 

The doors opened and closed. Vegeta walked in, apparently unaware of Gohan's mental struggle. Appeared in his armor, but to Gohan's surprise he was already removing the weighted plates. The training wear was form-fitting but Gohan longed for it to disappear as well. Was he teasing him? Gohan wanted to cry out and be straight forward, but with Vegeta, at least in the department of their ambiguous sexuality, it was best to be subtle and thoughtless. It was true, Gohan knew that Vegeta'd regarded the entire affair as something that would end.

In his dark navy uniform, loose as Pikkoro's had been, weighted. When Vegeta snapped at him to be ready and prepared for battle, Gohan hardly noticed that he'd been standing frozen in time with his breath sucked in. The area was small and poorly lit. Gohan was unsure as to why Vegeta had suggested this area to fight as opposed to numerous more suitable training areas. The younger gave a soft sigh, and the hair had barely managed to slip out before he felt Vegeta's fist hard against his jaw. He faltered a little bit, touching the wounded area. A little bit of blood dribbled down his mouth. Vegeta seemed to be waiting for a reaction, but there was quite suddenly something tired and unwilling to make this just another fight session.

If he got too caught up in battle, it was quite likely that Gohan would not be able to taste the older man's flesh. And yet he remembered with a slight cringe the night that he had found it in himself to take over the situation. In his own way, he despised that control, at least over Vegeta. He had in some ways become so very used to the necessity of Vegeta's command that he could not endure the pressure of having to preform for him. No, in his own way there was a certain security in being told what and when and how to do things. Less for him to be confused by, less thinking. And it was so queer because Gohan was a man of knowledge, he loved to think and contemplate and he loved to be a leader, but when it came to his Vegeta-Sama, something in him snapped and became childish and trusting, most of the time too trusting for his own good.

"What are you waiting for, boy?" He hissed in his raspy voice, thick with malice and intent, and Gohan felt his desire escalate. Oh, how he needed Vegeta's control, that air of arrogance, the way that he could so easily make him feel or do or say anything, and all he had to do was touch him or give him that look.

Gohan turned his lashes down and bit his lip a bit. As he slowly raised his gaze, Vegeta twitched a bit to see the look of absolute desire and need. Even so, Vegeta's look responded that if he wished to sleep with a prince, he would have to prove he could handle it. He side-stepped one of Vegeta's advances and in a motion that was absurdly fluid, his shirt dropped to the floor. The prince's eyes gave the bare chest a half-second's notice, and it was by far too late. It became more than apparent what was to happen, what they were to become, and yet Vegeta had refused in his own way to just submit to the wills and desires of such a spoiled young boy.

It had been silent for way too long. The quiet was making both nervous in different ways, but Vegeta's guard ironed out his face more effectively than Gohan's revealing eyes ever could. And with a half heart, Gohan charged at the prince. The two bodies slammed against the cold metal walls, and again Gohan found himself ripping at the prince's clothes. Clinching his jaw, Vegeta sent an unconvincing blow back but it seemed that he too was suffering from the heat of the moment.

And the poetic rantings began once more as the prince pushed Gohan back off of him long enough to catch him off guard. Gohan gasped a bit in both pain and surprise as he found that it was now his turn to dent the chamber's wall. Vegeta's lips, his teeth and his scowl all looked at him hard and cold for a few seconds. They were chest to chest, Vegeta's delicate fingers still holding him tight in his position. Their bodies crushed together once more, Vegeta ground his hips against his body. Gohan's gasp in pleasure at the contact of the contained cocks disoriented him for a half second. Winning his desired reaction, Vegeta stepped back and with it, he pulled out Gohan's sash. "I do not owe you anything. I am not obligated to treat you with any sort of special affection or be your friend. And if," He hissed, "We are to do this, then I want you to understand..."

Mesmerized.

"You will be fucked like the whore that you are," Vegeta was now crossing the area. Despite himself, Gohan felt that he was removing the remainder of his outfit. He stood entirely naked before his prince.

"I do." His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.

Rather than be undressed by force by the half Saiya-Jin twit, Vegeta grabbed at the hole that Gohan created and finished the rip. There was something pompous, perhaps even in its own right blatant about Vegeta's nudity. He merely stood before the boy, indifferent or disinterested. Gohan's member swelled with anticipation as he stared, awkward and humiliated, waiting for Vegeta to initiate the actions. He smirked at his disciple, and though the difference in height was there, it was obvious who was in charge.

Unable to handle the silence as they moved nose-to-nose and he dared not kiss the elder, Gohan closed his eyes and blurted out, "I want you!"

Vegeta laughed a little bit, "Then suck my cock." The demand was matter-of-fact, business-like. Gohan swallowed. It had been so long, he was so unsure of himself. He would never even consider having any sort of interaction with anyone that was not his prince. Even so, it was obvious that Vegeta was not pleased by any sort of hesitance and the boy. He allowed his hands to lightly rest on the prince's shoulders. He did not look at him for any sort of encouragement-he knew that he would not get it. As he stooped a little bit, he crushed his lips to the prince's perfectly tanned chest. In blatant contrast to his calloused hands, the skin was soft and smooth, Gohan's tongue followed the crevices of his well-defined muscles that became very fascinating suddenly despite having been around muscular men all of his life. He sighed in contentment at them, oh so inviting that he simply could not ignore his desire to lead the trail as he moved to his knees.

He held the member for a few seconds, looking at it, pulsing, as arrogant as Vegeta himself was. Gohan let his eyes flutter close as he tilted his head in, running his mouth over the throbbing shaft. The tingle of his warm breath, the boy's suckling the underside of his member, moaning to himself as he noticed Vegeta's knees tense just a little bit. His hand ran over it, at first he was gentle and slow, unsure of himself and unable to receive any sort of reaction that would indicate left or right. There was some sort of misery to the action: Gohan was quite aware of the fact that long ago Vegeta had taught himself to show very few signs of pleasure. The closest thing to a moan that he could hope for was a throaty growl, which he earned as the momentum of his pumping intensified. Finally, he took his prince's sex in his mouth, unable to hold all or even most of it, but for a few short moments he was unconcerned with Vegeta's pleasure. He relished the very feel of it, smooth, veiny in many ways quite foreign in his mouth, but he was ever aware of the fact that this belonged to the man that he had become so very obsessed with.

He pulled his mouth back to observe the item once more, giving it a gentle squeeze at the tip to examine the precum that appeared as response. Gohan tilted his lips towards the member, and then moved his head back, the sticky, clear substance stringing a line between the two before once again Gohan swallowed him once more. This time, he could feel Vegeta's hand tugging at his hair, and Gohan again suppressed a moan as he ran his mouth up and down the member, rolling his tongue as he could, anything to increase Vegeta's pleasure or get a reaction of some sort out of the man. As he gained confidence and nerve, Gohan let one hand explore his master's body as the prince allowed himself to thrust into Gohan's mouth. He could feel Vegeta shiver a little bit as his hand twirled over his chest, and then back down again to massage his testes.

After one dramatic movement, Gohan moved on to slowly lick at one or the other, running his hands up and down Vegeta's thighs, moving to his ass, the spot where a tail had once been-

The older grabbed his hair, hard, and then pushed him away. Gohan was frightened as he watched Vegeta's dark glare, that blazing black gaze that tortured him so. He sighed a bit to himself. He only wanted Vegeta. To make him feel, to give him pleasure, and the receive it. "You are disgusting." His eyes were narrow and hard. Gohan had prepared himself for this, but all the same every syllable stung at him. He was reluctant to swallow, shifting uncomfortably under the wave of insults and shouting. He could never really find a way to defend himself, because it was apparent in some obscure way that Vegeta was straight (which is good?) and he was the faggot (which is quite bad.) In many ways the lecture in itself confused Gohan, who had always considered himself to be more straight than anything else, but knowing about the younger's obsession with not being feminine, how could Vegeta resist?

Finally, Gohan was on his hands and knees on the floor, presenting himself, waiting. Vegeta grabbed his hips as the young boy pleaded and whined. The prince entered, grunting as he thrust, forming the rhythm, that exquisite pain, and he muffled his groans deep in his throat as Vegeta did, but he could not help gasping now and then, and finally when he felt his master's hand, tight and hard around his erection, he whimpered, "Bejiita-sa..."

"Vegeta!" He groaned, and he said the name over and over again, his voice pleading as he felt Vegeta using more and more power. So that was it, he mused in the middle of all of it, betraying his body and mind for he knew that he should be paying complete and total attention to the matter at hand (sex with the most amazing...) but he could not help but admit to himself that this sort of strength was not what could be used on a human, even one like Buruma. In himself, he felt a bit used and something hopeless and sad. The pain surfaced over the pleasure as he dwelled, and the sensitive parts of his body were giving in. Suddenly, with a squeal of delight and wonder, something snapped, something happened or perhaps it just didn't matter anymore and it was at this point that Vegeta moved swiftly to sink his teeth into Gohan's arm.

Gohan howled, but the gesture only emphasized the pleasure of the moment.

Vegeta caught on to the temporary mental connection and quickly moved to block it. Gohan, already nearly delirious in the heat of the moment seemed to not notice what had happened.

Both dropped to the floor. He was dozing, his eyes were getting heavy, and all he could do? Remember the taunts that the man he called father had thrown at him in their last sparring sessions. The boy felt sick inside and out. But the plan had worked: he was more loyal to Vegeta now than he had ever been.

What, are you giving up over just that?

You have to use up every bit of power you hold! There ain't nothing like it!

Concentrate! Look past your fear! Are you willing to let the Earth be destroyed?! You alone can end this, you just have to fight!

Gohan, you aren't giving enough power! Don't be scared!

Is it fine with you if the Earth is just smashed to pieces?

* * *

Author's Notes: So I used some quotes from episodes from the Garlic Jr. Saga. I played with both the English and Jap sub translations. As for the Gokou quotes, I did use them from Broly's second coming, Japanese subs mostly, and I edited out anything that would make it chronologically unclear. Basically, for all our puposes I wanted to show that at some point Gokou had taunted Gohan and I think that it really fits in, so I applied it to allow you to assume he'd said that during some sort of training session. 

**HeWhoWalks TheEarth**: I'm glad you liked it. D


	13. Verbalized

**Chemicals**

Thirteen is a wicked number.

* * *

Bulma lit a cigarette, "So how's he been?"

"Already he's developed a thicker skin."

"I hate you." Bulma pulled her hand to her chest, "I hate you so much. You came me one thing in this world to love, and one thing in this world to cherish, and one thing in this world that maybe, just maybe I'd assumed you couldn't destroy and you did!"

His unsympathetic eyes watched the smoke hover above her head, "He's mine. The boy is not your little dog or a toy for you to coddle. He was born with a destiny and I was gracious enough to award you with his infancy, which, mind you, could have been valuable time."

"I am so very grateful, you monkey!" Bulma hissed, and there he saw her as she always had been. It was simply astounding to him that even in his great moment of triumph, he had harnessed the most powerful being alive and left him to bask in his own psychological problems, "I am so grateful that you left me to be that boy's concubine! This was all your doing and you know it!"

"I simply gave the boy what he wanted," Vegeta pointed out somewhat objectively, allowing a casual slip of the hand and smirk appear on his face, engaging the woman, and his eyes darkened as he watched her, "You were obviously interested in what he offered you."

The slap made a clean contact with his face although he was strong enough and fast enough to stop her had he wanted to. He held her wrist to his jaw for a moment, and breaking her wrist even taunted his thoughts. Her eyes watered, but it was emotion that forced the tears to spring into her eyes and not fear. "How dare you.." she whispered very softly.

"You're the one lusting after the boy."

"I am not lusting after Gohan!"

Another set of eyes watched hungrily as the couple fought. Vegeta noticed but made no attempt to bring attention to the unwanted guest. "You were a good slut to me, and I got bored of you, and now I'm passing you on. The only reason, only reason I have not killed you yet is because you still serve a purpose."

Her voice was soft, "And what's that?"

"You'll entertain him until I return and find him ready for the next part of the plan."

"Did I really mean nothing to you?" She looked up at him, the prince that she so hoped to touch upon his heart, the man that she gave a son.

"Don't go back on your part of the deal now, Woman," Vegeta hissed, "You said feelings had nothing to do with it. Merely sex, merely desire. Did you truly expect for me to formulate feelings for you?"

"I don't have feelings for you, Vegeta," Bulma swallowed her heart in her chest, not quite strong enough to blink away tears. So she had fallen in love with the engaging prince. More and more over the years she found she turned to him when she felt any sort of stress, she turned to his body and she gave him hers. She loved the feeling of his powerful arms, she loved the edge that he brought to her side of the bed.

There was a twinkle in his bright black eyes when he pulled her to his chest, his smirk half a breath away from her lips, "Prove it."

He found something about the woman fascinating. The way that she was so willing to do the dirtiest things, the way that she basked in her own sexuality seemed so foreign to him. He'd met whores more modest and reserved than this woman, and of course when he found her, she was associating herself with that disgusting moron Yamucha. There was something about showing her what a true man is composed of, it sent a purring sensation throughout his bones.

"I can't." She ripped her hand away from him, glowering at him as she had so frequently, "I'm _Gohan's_ now, remember?"

He raised a brow, "Is that so?" Was the woman setting up a challenge? Trying to prove to him that she was still in some way unattainable?

When she looked at him, his bottom lip made her dizzy.

When he looked at her, her blazing eyes made him furious.

"You can't sell my soul to someone else and then ask for a goodbye fuck." She harshly managed. "Not that I'm not my own person, you know. But I do see your point, I do like Gohan more than I like you. That's something you can't take away from him, Vegeta. He's got too much of that Son blood in him, he's got a kindness to him that's not to be tainted."

"We shall see about that." He looked at her. He could have had her, and at that moment his anger was incited to the point where he badly wanted to fuck her just to prove that she was his at any given moment and he had given her body to the brat as a gracious gesture, a method of controlling and taming one who may or may not otherwise be a deranged, spoiled child. He could not have the oldest Son boy let alone like a loose cannon, and he knew very well that Buruma would both soil the boy with thoughts of purity and torment him with desire.

Vegeta knew all too much about that desire.

His eyes crept over her body one last time, before he let her hand drop and he turned around. She looked at him with a bit of shock, as she'd in her own moment of passion prepared for the angry sex that so often they once had.

"I'll hate you forever, Vegeta, if you leave me like this." She made her last attempt at pathos, but knowing he did not care, she abruptly added, "And do not think that I won't find a way to rescue my son."

"I anticipate the day you try."

* * *

"Bulma," Gohan softly whispered, "I will always take care of you. It's your choice, who you want to be in this world."

"I can't believe that this has happened." She sighed, holding her head a bit. "Don't you see that I just want my son back?"

Gohan's dark eyes sharpened, "I don't want to hear about him anymore. Or about Vegeta. You're mine now, Bulma. I want you to act like it. You never acted like being mine would kill you before."

"Where is Videl?" Bulma asked, determining that a change of subject was called for, "Don't you think that maybe she'd be better for this occupation?"

He laughed a little bit, "So being my companion is now an occupation?"

"I'm practically being asked to be your concubine."

"Maybe you should look at it another way," Gohan suggested, putting a finger to his lip as he looked over. "You know, if you're really good then maybe I'll trust you to do something."

Bulma sighed, "And what would your mother think?"

"She obviously trusts me in your care." Gohan pointed out, smiling a bit.

"Gohan, I can't do this. I just can't."

"You could before," he whined, nuzzling her. "I won't let you go, Bulma. I can't ever let you go." There was something so divine about the look of pain in her eyes. He was too powerful for her to peel herself away from him, and so she lay in his embrace, in his bed, in his compound, in Vegeta's world, and she stared ahead with the attempt to silence the rumbling in her chest. No, Gohan was not Vegeta and yet he was a very attractive, very powerful, and almost equally dangerous individual.

And Bulma craved danger in her own right. She looked at him, eyes curious, and she saw in him both confidence and that childish desire for her, that clingy nature that was almost self indulgence in black eyes.

"I want to fuck you."

* * *

Chichi stared up at the sky. Everything seemed almost artificial now. "I miss you."

It was so confusing for her. She was loved. She was adored, by her son. And Goten asleep in her arms, she looked down at the young boy. He did look so very much like his father.

At one time she thought both of her boys were so very much like their fathers.

* * *

Gohan looked about the area, nervous, anxious. He felt his soul splintering apart, and suddenly he felt that he needed a legacy, and he felt that he needed so many things. And he fell to his knees, ignored the terrible pain of his weight crashing down on his knees, and he gasped and gasped until the disturbances in his breath turned into coughs. And from the coughing he found blood, coming up and up and when he looked at his reflection in the ruby liquid shining on the floor of the compound, he saw that he'd been crying.

* * *

"He has been resurrected."

Vegeta looked up, barely acknowledging his son's words. The smirk appeared on his face, but it was soft at first. The young apprentice, the worthy heir awkwardly stood in awe of his father's shifting emotions.

And finally, Vegeta began to laugh. He threw his head back and gave the whole matter a huge, rumbling chuckle. And the neon sky contrasted so frighteningly with his obsidian eyes blazing in defiance, for the heavens were now conspiring against the forsaken, twisted prince. A satanic figure in his own right, and he lifted his arms triumphantly against thunderbolds abruptly crackling off in the distance, and he bellowed, "You're too late, Kakarotto! You're too late!"

* * *

It's been fun, ya guys. I'm asking for reviews, but eh. I may or may not write the sequel. Reviews sort of come into play with that one. I will tell you, the sequel involves the birth and bringing up of Bura, Goten's adulthood, Trunks' importance, and a closer look at Vegeta and Bulma's relationship as well as her relationship with Gokou, and of course, the dramatic meeting between disowned father and deranged son.


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